Interception
by coalhaus
Summary: Alicia Spinnet and Cassius Warrington are two elements of opposing forces that have only ever brutally interacted on the Quidditch pitch in six years. Their lives become tangled in a vicious mess when Cassius discovers Alicia's dirty little secret. They never should have met, not like this - not with death hanging over their heads. Rating change.
1. Chapter 1

It was the sort of horrible thing that Alicia Spinnet could have only imagined happening in the awful teen movies that her cousins dragged her to every summer, when she came back home from her "posh little toff school for geeks".

She'd made the mistake of sneaking out past curfew to grab a bite to eat from the kitchens the night before, and hadn't made it back to Gryffindor Tower until well past two in the morning, thanks to Filch, who'd been on the prowl. When she had finally made it back to the Tower, like an idiot, she'd forgotten to set her alarm before passing out on her bed. If it hadn't been for Angelina bursting into their dorm in search of her potions textbook, Alicia imagined that everything would have gone alright. She might have missed her first class of the year, but it would have been worth it, to spare herself the humiliation of what was to come.

The incident in question had to have been a terrible joke lined up at her expense by the gods, because she had trouble imagining what other set of circumstances could have possibly let to such an embarrassing outcome.

She'd run out of Gryffindor Tower as though chased by a banshee, clutching her wand in one hand, muttering glamour spells all the while, and her book bag in the other. The Ancient Runes classroom wasn't located far from Gryffindor Tower - indeed, it was in the North Tower - but it was located on the sixth floor of said wretched tower.

Alicia was panting by the time she saw the sixth floor landing, and it seemed she wasn't the only one. In her hurry, as she shoved past a group of gossiping fourth years slowly making their way down from a Divination class, she hadn't seen or heard one Cassius Warrington of Slytherin House barging up the stairs, three steps at a time, hot on her heels. He'd tried to cut past her as she'd finally made it to the top landing, and whether on purpose or by accident, he'd stepped on her robes and sent her tumbling to the ground. Vindictively, she grabbed his robes as he tried to walk over her.

"What the fuck, Spinnet!" Warrington barked, peeling himself off of the ground.

Alicia glared at him. "What the fuck yourself! Look what you've done, I'm already late -

He ignored her, as he set about sorting his belongings from hers. Alicia stared, aghast, at the realization that he would indeed be in Ancient Runes again this year. And Arithmancy. And History of Magic, which was a co-requisite for NEWT level Ancient Runes - unless, of course, he was reading the required textbooks for entertainment.

Alicia cursed as she picked up her wand and her bag, and set about grabbing as many scrolls of parchment and quills as she could.

"Oi, some of those are mine!" Warrington complained, snatching back a particularly nice scroll of parchment. Alicia scowled. Of course they were. As if she could ever afford to buy such thick parchment. Or would, for that matter.

"Just give me my books," Alicia snapped.

Warrington sneered, and 'accidentally' dropped her used versions of _Advanced Rune Translation _and _Spellman's Syllabary_. His versions, she noted bitterly, looked as though they'd come straight off the press.

But when it came down to _Hogwarts: A History_, there were no external indicators of which book was whose. The two copies (both unabridged editions, for the NEWT-level student) were seemingly untouched, for obvious reasons (because nobody in their right mind read the unabridged version unless they were NEWT students). In fact, it was the precise reason why Alicia had charmed the cover of her so-bad-it's-good anthology of bodice rippers to get her through the school year, a fact that she had forgotten all about until it was too late.

She watched, as though trapped in her own body, as Warrington flipped open one of the copies, his face freezing mid-sneer. Alicia felt her face go up in flames, remembering what she had done.

Unable to open her mouth for the first time in her life, she could only stare helplessly as Warrington's eyes scanned the first page he'd landed on. His face took on a terrifyingly impassive expression, but his eyes gave him away.

"Warrngton!" she squeaked. "I'm going to be late!"

He stepped back as she tried to grab the book from him.

"You're already late, Spinnet," he said in a strange voice. "_We're_ already late."

Alicia felt her heart hammering in her chest.

"Warrington!"

"Interesting use of dungeons," he murmured, casting his gaze upon her. "Didn't know history -

"Warrington! Just - just give it back!" she exclaimed, lunging at him. He slammed the book shut and whipped it out of her reach, dangling it over her head. Alicia stepped back and reached for her wand. He stared down at her, eyes dark and taunting. Alicia shut her eyes in embarrassment. She took a deep breath.

"Give me my book back or I'll hex your balls off," she said stiffly. _Just pretend we're playing Quidditch, just pretend we're playing Quidditch. _But the second she'd said it, she knew it was a mistake. Warrington grinned down at her as though to say _you set yourself up for it_, and Alicia groaned inwardly as soon as he opened his mouth.

"Oh, but I can think of all sorts of other fun things you could do with my balls," he said lecherously. He flipped open the book again, rifling through a few pages before settling on one of his choice, while Alicia jumped about like an idiot trying to grab it from him. If she were a Ravenclaw, she probably would have just summoned it out of his hands, but she was a Gryffindor for a reason. Hot-heatedness was practically a requirement, and such a quality wasn't always conductive to reasoning.

Warrington, meanwhile, contented himself with reading out a particularly salacious passage from the anthology.

_"Dominic stifled a moan as he watched her struggle against the restraints, begging just to get a taste of his -_

"Warrington!"

Alicia wanted to die. In fact, she probably already had, and this was her own personal hell, with Warrington as the torturer. Just hearing him was torture, and her heart hammered painfully in her chest when he suddenly reached out and grabbed her chin, tilting her head so that she was forced to look into his dark eyes. She let out an involuntary squeak, and tried to avert her gaze.

"Look at me, Spinnet," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse.

Alicia swallowed nervously. He had nice hands. Man's hands. His skin was rough, his fingers long and thick. Of course they were, he was a bloody chaser, the man had to have a good grip. A man, she thought to herself anxiously. Warrington had grown over the summer.

"Like what you see?" he whispered into her ear, leaning in so closely that she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck.

Alicia seized her chance to wrench herself out of his grasp, snatching her book_, _and shoving the offending item as far into her bag as it would go. Warrington crossed his arms, an amused smirk lighting his face. Alicia shoved past him, and walked as fast as she could towards class without having to run in shame. She heard him sniggering as his steps echoed in the corridor behind her, but as soon as she slipped into class, she shut the door in his face.

"Miss Spinnet, how nice of you to finally show up," Professor Babbling said sarcastically, shooting her a glare that was uncharacteristic of the usually pleasant Hufflepuff witch. The door swung open. "Ah, Mr. Warrington, kind of you to also grace us with your presence. Ten points from Gryffindor and Slytherin for disrupting the class. I expect you will both make up for your tardiness in detention this evening. This sort of behavior is unacceptable of Seventh Years."

"Sorry, professor," she mumbled.

Babbling ignored her, and continued on with whatever she'd been saying. Alicia and Warrington shuffled into the only two seats available, front and centre where Babbling was enthusiastically spraying the seats with each syllable.

Alicia slumped down in her seat, keeping herself as far away from Warrington as possible. Warrington, for his part, seemed to be doing his best to make her uncomfortable.

As he sat, he purposely brushed his leg against her naked calf. The left-handed bastard then proceeded to rubbing his arm against hers as she tried to catch up with Babbling's lecture, all the while pretending to be the diligent student, scribbling his own notes down vivaciously.

Or perhaps she was hallucinating. Perhaps it really was all an accident - the room was a small one, and the seats were crammed together behind the long desks, after all. More like a pew with desks, than a classroom... And it wasn't his fault that he was bloody left-handed… but it was Warrington! He'd purposely made them later than they already were, just to cause her torment, and now they had detention, and he didn't even seem to care!

The end of class couldn't have come soon enough, but as soon as the clock had ticked eleven, Babbling had called both Alicia and Warrington to her desk.

She lectured them on tardiness, which was to be expected, and then informed them to present themselves at Filch's office for detention. She expressed her disappointment, and wished them a good day.

"Fucking good day my ass," Alicia muttered viciously as she stormed out of the classroom.

"And what a nice ass it is," Warrington drawled.

Alicia ignored him, wishing that he could just disappear.

"Maybe we'll get to scrub the Potions class," he said, referencing one of Snape's favourite detention activities, "I know how hot the dungeons get you."

"Fuck off!"

Warrington laughed and strolled past her, calling out "see you in Detention, Spinnet!"

* * *

Lunch was a distracting affair. Cassius spent more time glancing surreptitiously at the Gryffindor table than listening to Montague's vigorous new practice plan for the year. This, he would pay for later, because had he been listening to Montague's hour-long speech, he may have voiced his concerns regarding six a.m. runs as the others had done. Instead, he tried to get a good glimpse of Spinnet, who was crammed in between Johnson and Bell, purposely avoiding his gaze, whilst simultaneously trying to erase mental images of her strapped to a leather torture bed, naked ass in the air.

"Warrington!" Montague barked suddenly, forcing Cassius to wrench his gaze from the Gryffindors.

"What?"

"Merlin, did you smoke something? I said are you free after bloody lunch? The rest of us have class, and Hooch is posting the open pitch sign up sheet -

Cassius grunted. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, "I'll go. Dunno why you bother asking if you bloody well know my schedule -

"Common courtesy," Montague said sarcastically, clapping him on the back. "Get there before Johnson does - or any of them," he said darkly. "Matter of fact, you should leave now."

Cassius held his tongue - knew better, really, then to question Montague when it came to issues of Quidditch. He was a madman. A good fellow, all around, as far as Slytherins went, but a madman on the pitch. And anything to do with it, really.

Cassius had always been fond of Quidditch, but it had never been an obsession, as it was with Montague, and Marcus Flint before him. In fact, Cassius could wholeheartedly say that were it not for his sheer size, he probably never would have made the team. He had a good hand with the ball, certainly - nearly impossible to get it out of his grasp once he had it, really - and he was quick on a broom, but his aim was for shit as far as chasers went, and passes were far from his forte. Still, he enjoyed the game. He just wasn't sure, looking down at Montague's impeccably drawn schedule - and backup schedule, and backup backup schedule (should anything go wrong, merlin forbid) - that he enjoyed it enough to be getting up at six am every day for jogs, and laps in the Great Lake, and field practice whenever possible.

Morning people. Sickening.

Cassius strolled at a leisurely pace towards Hooch's office, lost in his thoughts, when he suddenly heard what sounded like stampeding elephants behind him. He whipped his head around, only to see Roger Davies of Ravenclaw, the Weasel twins, and Alan Summerby of Hufflepuff racing around the corner of the corridor. Cassius froze for a second, remembering Montague's warning. He ran.

It was lucky that he'd made it to Hooch's office first, because he wouldn't have been averse to hexing any of them had they caught up to him. Hell, he already had detention as it was. He whipped out his quill and shot dirty glares at the others, who were now jostling each other to get to the sign-up sheet after him. The Weasel twins were bemoaning Montague's ambition in sending Cassius out before lunch was even half done, forcing Johnson to react by sending them after him, effectively cutting their lunch short as well. Cassius smirked. Ambition was a Slytherin trait for a reason.

He took his sweet time in filling in the sign-up sheet, meticulously copying Montague's schedule word for word, swearing at the Weasels whenever one of them came to close. Davies, the Weasels and Summerby complained loudly when they realized Cassius had filled in every primetime pitch spot on the list, effectively shafting them to practices at either the crack of dawn, during lunch, or in the evening. Not trusting any of them to not modify Montague's well-planned schedule, Cassius cast a quick perma-dry charm as soon as he finished up.

He walked off, smiling inwardly as he listened to the others bitch and moan.

It was good day to be a Slytherin.

He strolled down the corridors until he found his way to the kitchens, having missed out on the best part of lunch, and feeling sorry for it. He had an hour before History class, and Binns' lectures were deadly enough without a growling stomach that would keep him awake.

The house elves treated him like a king, as usual, and Cassius left content, hunger sated, ready to face the world. Amazing, really, what food could do for the soul.

He suddenly remembered gleefully that Spinnet was in Binns' NEWT class with him, and he realized with an almost sadistic pleasure exactly why she would have disguised her... pornography, for lack of a better word, as _Hogwarts: A History_. What better way to pass the class than by indulging in salacious fantasies? Cassius shook his head. How unoriginal. It was a trick patented by every third year boy in school, albeit with more... visual sources of entertainment. He wondered just how many of the girls might have done the same as Spinnet, just how many copies of _Hogwarts_:_ A History_ were read with zeal under the covers. He sniggered, remembering that one Hermione Granger was infamous for her near surgical attachment to the unabridged edition.

Cassius strolled into Binns' class (on time, not that the old ghost would have noticed if he were late), and he settled himself down behind Spinnet, who did her best to pretend he didn't exist, despite the fact that there were only twelve students in the class (all from Ancient Runes too, in fact). Cassius was the only Slytherin, and Spinnet the only Gryffindor. The rest were Ravenclaws and a couple of ambitious Hufflepuffs.

"Ready for class, then, Spinnet? I see you've forgotten one of your books -

"Stuff it, Warrington."

He smirked. How easy she made it for him!

"Where, precisely, shall I stuff it? I take it that you can be conflicted between your three -

Spinnet let out an indignant huff, and he grinned privately, as the back of her neck flushed crimson.

"You're disgusting -

"Ah, but I'm just citing what I've read, you see," he said, certain that he'd seen a threesome mentioned in her book somewhere. He judged by her silence that he'd been correct, but before he could allow himself to get too smug, he suddenly pictured Spinnet on all fours in the Slytherin locker room, naked and surrounded. His mouth went dry, and he shifted uncomfortably.

He ignored her for the rest of the class, focusing instead on Binns' droning voice, which was the furthest thing from a turn-on he could imagine. Spinnet, he noticed subconsciously, sat with her back straight throughout the entire lecture, as though on alert in case he might stab her in the back, or worse.

When Binns finally dismissed the class, she shot out of her seat as though it were on fire, and walked as fast as humanly possible out the class. Reprieve for the rest of the day - they didn't have a NEWTs class together until Arithmancy on Thursday. The rest of the NEWTs classes were big enough that they'd been split into groups of two houses, and Cassius had dropped Potions and DADA the second he'd finished fifth year, which meant no classes with the Gryffs.

He was assaulted by Montague on his way to Charms, which they had with Hufflepuffs. Montague demanded to know how the sign-up had gone.

"Took them long enough to realize where you were going so early," Montague sniggered, recounting how the others had bolted out of the Great Hall nearly simultaneously.

"Idiots, the lot of them," Cassius said, remembering how they'd bickered the entire time he'd been copying out Montague's schedule. He suspected Montague had been the only one mad enough to make three versions of a schedule, although he suspected Johnson might have had at least two. Gryffindor bitches could be crafty, he thought, remembering how Spinnet had yanked him down after he'd accidentally-on-purpose stepped on her robes earlier that morning.

Spinnet. Fuck, he hadn't gone ten minutes without thinking about her, all because of her godforsaken book.

And then there was detention. He'd almost looked forward to it earlier - more time to taunt Spinnet, back when the material was fresh - but his mind had taken a dark spin over the last few hours, and the last thing he wanted to do was to have a wank over Spinnet before bed like a sorry first year, or embarrass himself in detention.

He scowled, as he and Montague sat down next to Adrien Pucey, who was busy sliding as many quills as possible into Carolyn Cale's bush of hair without her noticing. The other Hufflepuffs hadn't said a word - the girl was universally disliked for her nasally voice and annoying habit of questioning anything anybody said, be it a professor or a student.

"Got a letter from the old man," Pucey mentioned casually, as Cassius and Montague slid into the seats next to him. They watched as Pucey began removing the quills from Carolyn Cale's head - an infinitely more difficult task, because the quills had been practically absorbed into her mass of frizzy curls. "You lot get anything, then?"

"No," Montague and Cassius said simultaneously, exchanging serious glances. There were only two things that Mr. Pucey Sr. would have written to Adrien about that might be of concern to both Cassius and Montague: the Mark, or Yule. Pucey's rather casual attitude, and the fact that he'd mentioned the letter in so public a setting indicated that it was the latter, rather than the former, and the two boys groaned simultaneously. First day of school, and already the rubbish was piling up.

"It'll be at Flint's this year," said Pucey.

Cassius nodded, frowning. Flint. Marcus Flint had enjoyed relatively good fortune since graduating from Hogwarts, something that had not escaped Cassius' attention. He found it all rather suspicious, considering Flint's good timing. Flint had graduated the previous year, leaving his captain's position to the ever-enthusiastic Montague. He'd then been more or less instantly picked up by the Falmouth Falcons as their newest chaser the second he'd stepped off of the Hogwarts Express.

Alright, it was an exaggeration to some degree, but Cassius had found it curious that Flint had repeated a year, only to be picked up by his favourite team just in time for the very same season that the Falcons' captain and oldest chaser had entered into retirement. Shrewd planning or sheer dumb luck? Cassius had a strong suspicion that it was the former, though he was sure that his ex-captain wouldn't have been averse to using his family firm and name to get him signed, had things not gone quite so swimmingly. Ever the Slytherin.

"Why Flint's?" Montague asked.

"He'll have to be hunting soon, won't he... already behind by a year and whatnot... and his father isn't exactly young if you know what I mean. Plus, those fat cows'll be anxious, I reckon," Pucey explained.

Trust Pucey to know everything, Cassius thought snidely. The boy was a proper gossip queen. But it was true what he said. Flint Sr. was a tottering old man who'd probably been around when McGonagall was just an acid-tongued first year. Marcus was the only male heir in the direct family line, and he had two older half sisters who'd been waiting around to get married off for the last five years at least, if Cassius hadn't mixed up his dates. Anxious indeed. Flint Sr. wouldn't be around much longer, and Cassius imagined he wanted to be alive long enough to at least ensure his family didn't fall to ruin in the hands of his supposedly intellectually deficient son. A respectable marriage for each of his children was the only way to ensure any form of relative security.

"Why'd your dad write you so early then?" Montague questioned, and by Pucey's expression of disgust, Cassius had a strong suspicion of what his answer might be.

"Which one is it, then? The fat one or the horsey-looking one? More cushion for the pushing, I alway say," Cassius said jokingly, though he secretly pitied Pucey's position. No doubt his father had sent him a letter early to warn him what his future might entail if he didn't start hunting up a potential wife on his own.

"Yeah," Montague chimed, "The fat one's alright. Although the other one's right fit, if it weren't for her face. You could plough her from behind, I reckon, then you'll never have to look at her!"

"Fuck off," Pucey grumbled, and due his unhappiness he accidentally pulled one of his quills out of Carolyn Cale's head a little too hard. She squealed and whirled around in her seat. With the quills sticking out of her head, she looked rather like a jobberknoll. Sounded like one too.

"Settle down, settle down!" Flitwick squeaked, suddenly scurrying into class.

"_Accio quills_," Pucey muttered, smirking as the quills in Carolyn Cale's head struggled to dislodge themselves in order to land in Pucey's open palm.

Carolyn screeched, and the class burst out laughing as she stood, trying to detangle Pucey's quills. While Pucey stood and pretended to help her in the removal process.

Carolyn and Pucey soon found themselves also added to the day's detention roster.

* * *

The group outside of Filch's office was curiously large, Alicia noted as she walked down the corridor. A couple of second years stood bickering not so quietly, using language that would have made a sailor blush. Carolyn Cale, a Hufflepuff in her year, stood silently by herself, staring haughtily at everyone. A group of fourth years stood angrily, bitching about the new DADA teacher, Professor Umbridge.

Alicia shuddered, remembering the foul woman's so called 'class' earlier that afternoon. It was sheer bollocks, and propaganda to boot. The woman had refused any form of practical lessons, and Alicia and the rest of her fellow NEWTs students had been aghast, even the Slytherins. That had been short-lived, though, she thought grimly, remembering the Slytherins quickly coddling up towards the filthy old bitch the second she started docking points from Gryffindor for "rudeness". Bitch was worse than Snape. The only thing that had been decent about the class was that Warrington hadn't been in it, and Umbridge had made her so angry that she'd nearly forgotten about her day's humiliation, until it'd been time for dinner, and she'd caught him repeatedly looking over at her throughout the hour.

"What are you here for?" asked Evangeline Frank, who'd been Alicia's Herbology partner in third year. Alicia looked up and smiled.

"Long time no see! What am I doing here? I should be asking you that... you're never in detention!"

Evangeline, who normally was a kind, soft-spoken girl with a smile for everyone, scowled. Alicia was thoroughly shocked.

"Umbridge heard me mouthing off about the _Prophet_ and she gave me detention for 'foul language'."

"You? Foul language!"

"Yeah, well... you know. It's just... they're all going on about how everything's okay, and it's just shite isn't it! And it makes me so... mad! My father was _killed_ the first time! I _know_ what a bloody Dark Mark looks like, and I _saw_ it at the World Cup - we all did. And Cedric... it's all shite!"

Alicia stared at the girl, feeling a tightness in her chest at the mention of Diggory. He'd been her first proper crush when she was a first year, and his death had been like an anchor dropping on her childhood. Sign of the times to come. And the Dark Mark... Alicia knew all about the Dark Mark too.

Alicia and Evangeline stood silently when they saw Warrington and Pucey appear in the corridor. The only two Slytherins in detention, it seemed.

Alicia was glad, for the first time in her life, to see Filch's face because it meant avoiding contact with Warrington. The crusty old man stumbled out of his office looking more than a little drunk, and he barked at the group to "shut up". Evangeline looked at Alicia apprehensively, and Alicia wondered if it was the girl's first time in detention. Poor thing.

"Alright, I said shut the hell up. Which of you lot was given detention by Professor Umbridge?" Filch barked, sending spit flying towards the flinching second years.

The group of fourth years raised their hands warily, as did Evangeline and one of the second years.

"Head over to the Forbidden Forest," he snapped, "And be quick about it. Now!"

"It'll be alright," Alicia whispered reassuringly, pushing Evangeline gently. "We'll catch up later."

"I said now! And you, keep your mouth shut," Filch sneered. Alicia refrained from swearing, and waved half-heartedly at her friend.

"Alright, let's see now. Snape. Which one of you has detention from Snape?"

The other second year raised her hand.

"Trophy room. If it isn't scrubbed down by the time I get back, I'll be seeing you tomorrow. No magic." The girl hung her head and handed Filch her wand, clearly having been through this routine before. He gave her a bucket and a scrub-brush in exchange. She made her way down the corridor, muttering to herself in anger.

"Alright, Flitwick's brats."

Adrien Pucey and Carolyn Cale stepped towards Filch.

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. No magic." Again, wands were exchanged, this time for mops and sponges.

Alicia and Warrington were now alone, undoubtedly sentenced to serve detention together.

"Locker rooms. No magic."

Alicia scowled as she handed Filch her wand and she grudgingly accepted a scrub-brush and a bucket. Warrington looked strangely alarmed for a second, but he too gave up his wand for a mob and a bucket.

They walked silently down the corridor until both were sure they were out of Filch's earshot.

"Fucking prick," they sneered simultaneously.

Alicia looked at Warrington uncertainly. He avoided her gaze, walking quickly, looking straight ahead. She frowned.

"What, no stupid comment? Scared, are you, without your wand?"

"Shut up, Spinnet," he said warily. "I really don't want to spend the next four hours listening to you whine."

Well that certainly shut her up, Cassius thought to himself. Not that it mattered. The second Filch had said "locker rooms", Cassius had gone on hyper-alert to Spinnet's presence, remembering the vivid imagery he'd had earlier in Flitwick's class. It was divine punishment, obviously.

They started with the Hufflepuff's locker room, because it was the closest. It looked just like the Slytherin's might have, if all Slytherin alumni had suddenly dropped off the face of the planet, along with their wealth, leaving nothing to bequeath to the younger generations of Hogwarts to spruce up their school haunts. The benches were shoddy and everything was maddeningly black and yellow.

"I'll mop, you scrub," said Alicia.

Cassius smirked. "Nice try, but I believe Filch gave _you_ the scrub_._"_  
_

Alicia shrugged. "Whatever. Worth a try," she muttered, her voice lacking any animosity.

Cassius frowned. He'd never interacted with Spinnet off the pitch before today. They'd shared classes over the years before, and she'd been in all the same NEWTs classes as him the year before, but they'd never exchanged more than a few words in all their seven years. In fact, he'd probably said more to her today than he had in all the other years combined. They'd never even duelled, which he knew Spinnet was fond of, because Miles Bletchley had been her sworn enemy since first year when the idiot had nearly thrown her off her broom in their first flying class.

They worked in silence, and for awhile, separately, leaving the antechamber in order to clean the showers and changing areas first. Alicia cleaned the girls' section, and Cassius did the boys'. It was an arrangement that suited them both well enough. When they were done with that, they switched sides so that the cleaning job was complete on both sides, then Alicia scrubbed the toilets, while Cassius mopped the sink area. Again, they switched, so that the sinks could be scrubbed down and the floor in the toilet stalls mopped.

Alicia was sweating by the time they finished the Hufflepuff's locker rooms, and was more than happy when Cassius chose to head over to the next ones via the Quidditch pitch rather than the corridors.

It was a nice, clear night, with a cool September breeze. Alicia breathed deeply. She loved the Quidditch pitch, loved the smell of freshly cut grass, the openness of the field, the long shadows cast by the hoops under the moonlight...

"You coming, Spinnet?" Warrington said suddenly, pulling her out of her reverie.

Alicia looked at him curiously.

"Where are you going? We just passed the Ravenclaw - oh. Obviously."

"Please, I've had enough mediocrity for now," Cassius said truthfully.

Alicia raised an eyebrow.

"Mediocrity? What the hell are you going on about?"

Cassius shrugged. "You'll see." Apparently, the Gryffindor's locker rooms weren't much better off than the Hufflepuff's, if Spinnet hadn't been offended by the sad display.

"You're a right toff," she said, without any menace. Cassius looked back at her.

"Why? Because I have an appreciation for taste?"

Alicia snorted. "Yeah, right. As if snakes carved into every design means taste."

Cassius looked at her curiously. "Well what do you know about it then, if you're such an expert?"

Alicia fell silent.

"You're a half blood," he said suddenly. Alicia scowled.

"What do you know about it then, if you're such an expert?" she said mockingly.

"I'm not trying to be rude," Cassius sneered. "I'm just saying, you're a half blood, are you not?"

She shrugged.

"What does it matter?"

Dangerous grounds. A warning sign flashed in Cassius' head. Political conversations were not safe these days.

"Just curious."

"My mum's a pureblood," she said, stressing the word 'pureblood' distastefully.

Cassius nodded, not surprised in the least.

Slytherin locker room. He swung open the doors.

Alicia's first reaction was to puke.

Alright, it was her second reaction. Her first reaction was quite honestly awe. And then disgust.

"Marble?" she said sarcastically, "Really?"

"Malfoy has been... generous," he said, choosing his words carefully.

Alicia scoffed. "Yeah, right. I take it this was part of the packaged deal with those 2001s, then."

Cassius shrugged.

Alicia sighed and discreetly admired the antechamber's wood-panneled walls and dark marble floors. She followed Cassius to the changing area and the showers.

"No girl's section," she said, "Go figure."

"A wall goes up automatically if there are girls on the team," he said. "It's like that for all the houses, I imagine."

Alicia nodded.

"Right. Well. I'm just going to go scrub the sink... unless you wanna switch?"

Cassius almost laughed. Almost. "Not a chance, Spinnet."

Alicia looked at him curiously, and grinned inwardly when she sensed that he was becoming uncomfortable under her gaze. She'd waited all night for him to say something, anything, about The Book, but he'd ignored her all night. Was he plotting something? He'd been strangely cordial in the last ten minutes, not that she'd ever really spoken to him properly before, but there had to be some sort of ulterior motive. Even she wouldn't have let anybody get away with such an embarrassing incident if she'd been in his place. Maybe he was hoping to blackmail her. Or maybe she was just paranoid.

"You might want to take a picture, Spinnet, I'm not going to stand here all night," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Alicia flushed.

"I'm not giving you the mop."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, wandering away, thankful that he'd let the matter drop. Only... now she was more paranoid than ever. She'd just given him the perfect opportunity to bring up The Book, and instead, he'd basically told her to get to work.

Cassius watched Alicia's retreating figure, and tried not to admire the swishing of her skirt around her nicely shaped legs. She'd taken off her robes at some point, and now she was -

Cassius could have cursed himself, regretting not having given her the mop. His earlier vision came back full force, as he watched her get onto all bloody fours to scrub the corners of the shower stalls. He swallowed uncomfortably, and tore his gaze away from her curvy rear.

Bloody hell, he thought savagely, I've got the hots for Spinnet.

Cassius ran the cold water in the sinks and tried to think about Filch's sallow face. He splashed the cool water on his face and then realized with horror that he would have to fill his bucket over at the showers.

He forced himself to review all the ancient runic alphabets in his mind, and kept his eyes focused on the last shower stall.

Merlin, those skirts were indecent, he thought suddenly, catching a glimpse of the back of her thighs out of the corner of his eyes. He groaned.

"Warrington?"

Fuck.

"What?" he snapped.

"Nothing," she said just as rudely. "Just wondering why you're grunting like a pig," she added snidely.

Alicia turned around and straightened her back.

Warrington looked down at her.

"Why's your face all wet?"

Fuck, she looked sexy. She looked up at him from under her lashes, hair falling out of her bun, her back straight, though still on her bloody knees, calves tucked under her thighs.

"It's hot," was all Cassius managed to get out in a strangled voice.

"Why are you grunting?"

"I'm not grunting. Just. Just go back to scrubbing!"

Alicia scowled at him, and muttered, "Wanker," but did as he said, much to his chagrin.

It was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys please leave reviews so that I can get a feel for how this is going :)**

**And special thanks to my first two reviewers, DZAuthor AKA DZMOM and ShadowQuill 426! Hope this is to your liking. **

* * *

Sin was a slippery slope.

Alicia liked to imagine that she was a decent sort of girl, but she'd had a taste of sin during the summer before sixth year back home, and it'd been downhill ever since.

Home.

Home was... interesting.

Home was a shitty apartment on top of her father's shitty little bar in a shitty neighbourhood in a shitty part of town.

The girls she'd grown up with had gone on to become what one referred to as chavs. They'd been offended when she'd announced her acceptance to a prestigious private boarding school under scholarship back when they'd all began to paint their nails and steal lipgloss from the drugstore for the first time, but every summer they greeted her with the same hugs and kisses, the same sarcastic badgering, calling her Doc or Professor, and as they got older, the same shots of cheap vodka swished back with the same lukewarm lemonade.

Two summers ago, Alicia had learned that the last of her home friends had lost their virginity, and the girls had turned their attention upon her as a pet project for the summer. Resistance had been futile. Alicia spent two drunken months hopping fences, hopping pools, meeting boys and finally, lost her self-respect in a sad episode on a friend of a friend of a friend's father's couch at five in the morning on a Sunday.

Sadly, learning life lessons the first time around had never been Alicia's forte, and soon she found herself experimenting in the art of the quick shag in drunken sessions, fumbling in the dark, all despite the embarassing shame-filled walks home they inevitably ended in each time.

Five boys later, Alicia hopped on the Hogwarts Express in sixth year, vowing that she would remain celibate until graduation, at least at school; one did not shit where one ate.

In general, her plan of attack had been a success, though somehow word had gone around that Alicia was most likely a slag (undoubtedly, someone had overheard whatever she'd told Katie and Angelina on the train, much to her dismay), and for two weeks, she fended off propositions from the male population until it was made very clear that Alicia did not sleep around. Much. And certainly not at Hogwarts. It was then decided that Alicia batted for the other team, and that was the end of that.

Until now.

Alicia's knees were sore, and her hands were wrinkly from the constant exposure to soapy water over the course of the last four hours, and she could still feel the burn of Cassius Warrington's eyes on the back of her head. He'd stared at her all night, glancing furtively at her whenever he thought she wasn't paying attention, but each time he'd looked at her she'd felt his stare like a hot iron on her skin. She'd done her fair share of looking too. It'd been awkward whenever they'd caught each other at it. At least for her. She had a maddening habit of flushing any time she felt embarrassed, a full flush that went from her chest all the way up to the tips of her ears. He had a maddening habit of looking bored, grunting, or yelling at her. The ten minutes they'd spent talking between the Hufflepuff and Slytherin locker rooms felt more like a hallucination.

And now here she was, crawling into bed while the rest of her dorm mates snored, thinking dirty thoughts about Him.

It was strange, how he'd never really registered as a boy in her mind prior to now. Warrington had always been just that - Warrington. A thing. The Enemy, a force to be beat. She'd never thought about him as... well, human. He'd only existed for her on the pitch as that ghastly creature with the velcro hands and the strong kick and broad shoulders that could send her spiralling towards the grass with a well-directed hit. Off the pitch, he was a Slytherin. Again, the Enemy, one particle in a mass of others that made up Evil.

Today - tonight - she saw.

She'd noticed little things first, like how he'd cut his hair. It occurred to her that the dark shaggy mop she'd been used to tugging on during Gryffindor-Slytherin games had been replaced by a closer cut, a man's cut, the kind of cut that old boys in suits wore on their way to their meetings, briefcase in one hand, cigarette in the other.

Then she noticed other things, like how the rest of his body had grown to match his broad shoulders, how his forearms had stared at her oh so invitingly when he'd rolled up his sleeves, or how the little dark curls that escaped from the unbuttoned top of his shirt had glinted under the harsh light of the Gryffindor locker room.

It was when she noticed his smell that she knew for sure that she was in trouble.

He'd come a little too close for comfort when they were washing their hands after everything was done. Standing next to him in silence, she couldn't help but hear his breath come out in harsh little pants like he was angry, and she certainly couldn't help but breathe in his smell. It was an earthy, spicy scent, a mix of his sweat and some sort of hormone-arousing cologne that reminded her of fresh pine trees and worn out leather. She'd scurried away from him in horror, and he'd looked at her funny.

And now... well, now it was all she could think of, really.

It was a curse.

It had to be a curse.

She fell asleep after a long while spent staring at her bed curtains, too afraid to open the Book that had started it all - she had a good idea whose face she would have ended up imagining, had she dared.

Cassius, to be fair, however, was not much better off than Alicia, and if anybody had been cursed in his opinion, it was he.

The vow he'd made to himself earlier in the day had been broken, and he lay silently, breathing roughly after his sad little display of self-indulgence. No amount of _scourgifying_ now would leave him clean of the taint that was Alicia Spinnet - it was too late. While he could banish the physical evidence of his torment, he could hardly obliviate himself of the memory of her. _  
_

The worst part was that it had all happened in a few short hours, really. Less than twenty four hours, pitted against seven years. The girl had been nothing more than a pain in the ass on the Quidditch pitch since their first match, and before he'd joined the team (coerced into it, actually), he'd hardly even noticed her existence.

And now...

He shut his eyes in a sorry attempt to sleep. He'd spent an entire torturous hour in the Slytherin locker room, trying his best not to watch Spinnet's back arching in and out as she scrubbed first the showers and then the toilets. On all fours. In a skirt.

Even after they'd moved on to Ravenclaw's locker room and then Gryffindor's (teams with girls, which meant a merciful break from her presence while cleaning), he still hadn't managed to forget the view, both from his earlier fantasy and from the real thing. She hadn't been crawling around nude whilst scrubbing the tiles, but she hadn't been far from it either... Not in his mind, anyway.

Spinnet had, in the span of twelve hours, gone from a tick in the back of his mind to a full grown woman, tits, ass and hips and all.

Cassius groaned softly and rolled over onto his stomach. He flipped over his pillow and pressed the cool sheet against his face, trying not to picture Spinnet's face. Or her legs. Or anything related to her for that matter.

The worst was her scent. He was drunk off of it.

She didn't wear perfume, but whatever she washed her hair with was designed to cripple a man, he was sure of it. As he'd followed her scurrying form out the Gryffindor locker room and into the school, she'd taken her long hair out of its bun and run her fingers through it to quickly untangle any knots that had formed. He was assaulted with the smell of raspberries and citrus, and he'd stopped dead in his tracks for a second before pulling himself together. And now he was cursed. Cursed, dammit!

* * *

"How was detention?" Katie asked, as Alicia sleepily poured herself a mug of tea.

"Fucking rubbish as usual," Alicia grunted.

"Don't even get me started!" Angelina sneered. "Harry had detention with Umbridge last night - "

"-Umbridge? Huh. Must have been personal - half the people at Filch's had detention from her, but they went to the Forest."

"Yeah, well she's put him in for it all bloody week, which means he's missing the tryouts on Friday!"

Alicia raised an eyebrow.

"All week? What did he do then?"

Angelina rolled her eyes.

"Nothing. She's just a bloody cow is what."

Alicia nodded. "Yeah, actually - you know who I saw last night? Evangeline Frank! Umbridge gave her detention."

"Huh. Warrington looks pretty pissed at you, Alicia," Katie said suddenly, nodding towards the Slytherin table.

Alicia froze.

"What did you do to him? Please don't tell me you did anything stupid! I can spare Harry but if you get detention too, there's no way we'll find a proper keeper!"

"I didn't do anything," Alicia replied truthfully, glancing furtively at Warrington out of the corner of her eye. He _was_ glaring at her.

"Yeah, well, make sure you keep it that way. You too, Katie - in fact, oi! All of you, no crazy shit this week, you hear me? I need you all at the tryouts this week, and I swear, if any of you get detention -

Angelina's tirade was cut off by a first year suddenly convulsing violently before spraying his entire breakfast over the table.

"Urghhhh..."

"Argh! _Scourgify! Scourgify!_"

"Fred!"

"George!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Can you believe this shit?" Angelina snapped, glaring at Fred and George who were loudly proclaiming their innocence.

Alicia groaned and slid out of her seat along with half the Gryffindors, no longer feeling the urge to eat. She sighed warily as Umbridge stood, but smirked when McGonagall beat her to the Gryffindor table.

Alicia took the time to look over at the Slytherins while everyone else was distracted.

Warrington looked exhausted. And irritated. His normally impassive face was drawn into a tight sneer that reminded her more of Malfoy. He was conferring with Montague and Pucey, both of whom apparently shared his discontent. She sighed in relief. They probably weren't talking about her then.

* * *

"Fucking madness, I'm telling you," Montague snarled, glaring at the gleaming pages of _The Rogue and Gentleman_, jabbing his finger into the faces of smirking models in the dress robes section of the catalogue with a dozen images circled in red by his mother's indulgent hand.

Cassius nodded in agreement. His own mother had sent him the same catalogue, circled images included, with a tersely worded letter demanding his decision on robes by nightfall. It was all a conspiracy. The Lady Montagues and Warringtons of society had obviously gotten together to discuss Yule, and had decided to start cracking heads at once. Cassius had seen his mother all of six times over the course of the summer, and she had more to say in her one letter than she had in any of their short encounters.

"They're really coming down on us this year," Pucey noted sullenly, shoving a forkful of bacon into his mouth.

That they were. And Cassius had a few running theories as to why. Being in seventh year definitely played a huge role in this year's Yule, because it was the last chance any of them had to make impressions before graduation. And seventh year meant Debutantes. The rumours of the Dark Lord's return also most likely played a role. This was not only a time to make impressions for the work force - it was a time to make impressions for... the more political reasons at stake.

Unconsciously, Cassius remembered his little discussion with Spinnet the previous night, how uncomfortable she'd been discussing her blood status with him. He scowled.

Half-blood.

His father would have his head, if he had any idea. Half-bloods were tolerated at best, depending on their money and family connections. The Warringtons had never been active participants in the blood feuds, but they'd certainly been vocal in regards to their stance over the years. Cassius knew his father may not have had the Mark, but half of the family acquaintances certainly did and more often than not, politics had a lot to do with business.

"Who are you going to pick?" asked Montague.

"For what? Yule? I don't give a shit. Mother will make some suggestions when the time comes, and I'll pick one, same as every year," Cassius replied, shrugging. Every Yule gathering he'd attended since his fourth year had been the same - his mother sent him a letter in mid-October with a not-so-subtle list of potential partners, he picked the least talkative of the lot, and continued on with his life.

Montague looked at him like he was daft.

"Don't be stupid, you know it's different this year."

They exchanged wary glances. Marriage. It was as much a business ploy as it was political, and it had haunted the boys since fourth year. They'd always known it was coming, of course, but suddenly, what with Pucey's letter threatening an engagement with one of the... lovely Flint ladies, and graduation around the corner, it wasn't some point off in the distant horizon that was the Future. It was Now. Or at the very least, Soon.

So yes. It would be different this year. It would be serious this year. Engagements weren't unheard of at this point in a young man's life. Rare, but not unheard of, and they all knew that the murmers of the Dark Lord's return were not simply rumours. They'd all witnessed the unusual flurry of activity over the summer.

"Well what about you?" Cassius countered, not wanting to think any deeper on the matter. Not now, anyhow. Not with Spinnet gawking at him along with her stupid friends, not with Montague's prying questions and Pucey's insipid comments.

Montague shrugged.

"I asked you first. What about that Beauxbatons bint you were shagging last year?"

"Which one?"

Montague and Pucey sniggered.

"Good point. Well. Any of them."

"Forget it, they're French. Dad hates the French."

"Your mum's French," Pucey pointed out.

"Exactly."

The boys laughed again.

"But seriously -

" - Seriously. I don't know. Anyway, shouldn't you be asking Pucey? He's the one practically engaged to Flint's sister, since we all know he won't be able to come up with anybody else in time."

"Fuck off," Pucey snapped. "And anyhow, I've been putting a list together of all my potentials. Forget the girls in our house, they're all slags... couple of fit ones in Ravenclaw from proper families, but I've been thinking about going abroad."

"Abroad? What are you going on about?"

"Well the way I figure, a lot of the purebloods in England are blood-traitors, and there's no way mum and dad will ever let me go that way. Half-bloods are out of the question, not with - well, You Know Who... But I'm thinking I don't really want to shackle up with a cousin or anything either, and fuck Flint's sister, I'm not going to let that happen. But If I go abroad... well, the French aren't so bad. And those Spanish birds -

Montague smirked.

"And if all else fails?"

Pucey looked around nervously. Then, he whispered, "I'll take the Mark."

Cassius stared at his friend. The boy was an idiot. Take the Mark to avoid marriage? It was a smart plan - taking the Mark would certainly put any marriage plans on hold until things were sorted out in the world - but again, Pucey was an idiot. He wouldn't survive the branding, let alone the gruesome tasks that would surely follow. He had a weak stomach to begin with, and then there was the low tolerance for pain...

Montague looked just as stricken as Cassius felt.

"Don't be stupid, mate - that's -

Pucey's eyes flashed angrily.

"You think I'm stupid, do you? You realize what's going on... we're all going to have to pick sides sooner or later. If I have to pick sooner rather than later to avoid having to fuck that foul cow, then sooner it is. Anyway, I'd be careful if I were you... not too safe going around making comments like you're not sure which side you're going to pick..."

Pucey's eyes flickered over towards Malfoy, whom they all knew would be elbows deep in shit by the time the ball got to rolling.

He was right, of course. It was dangerous to talk so openly.

"Anyway," Pucey said, in a lighter voice, though the slight waver betrayed his anxiety, "I won't be going there, now will I? I've got cousins in Belgium, and all I have to do is write. I'll have a bint by Yule just begging me to put a ring on it - no, two!"

Cassius hoped for Pucey's sake that his wishes would come true. His life probably would depend on it.

* * *

"So how was detention, anyhow?" Angelina asked, having failed to finish the conversation earlier, back in the Great Hall.

Alicia shrugged as they stepped outside to admire the sun before class. They'd decided to ditch breakfast early after the puking incident - there was only so much a girl could take.

"Yeah, Warrington looked pretty pissed," Katie noted, repeating her earlier observation.

"Does he ever smile?" Angelina pointed out.

Alicia refrained from pointing out that indeed, he did.

"Well, we didn't kill each other," she said instead, pointing out the obvious. "I got to see all the other locker rooms, though."

"Really? What are they like?" Katie asked excitedly.

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Probably like ours. In different colours," she said monotonously.

Alicia shook her head, and Katie shot Angelina a triumphant glance.

"Slytherins have marble."

"WHAT?" Katie screeched.

"He let you see it?" Angelina gasped.

"Not like he had much choice... Filch pretty much threatened us with repeat detention if we didn't clean them all."

"Marble? Are you serious? That's..."

"Disgusting? Let me guess, Malfoy," Angeline deadpanned.

Alicia shrugged.

"Wouldn't tell me. You know Slytherins and their secrets. It was really nice though. Like... really nice. Wood panelling on the walls, marble floor, marble benches - the real deal. But yeah, my bet's on Malfoy... he's a shit seeker, and those 2001s went out as fast as the Firebolt's were in."

Angelina shook her head in disgust.

"Bastards... and did I tell you? Fucking Warrington beat the twins to the sign-up sheets yesterday, so you can thank your new friend for that."

Alicia groaned. How had she missed that?

"So what does that mean?"

"It means morning practice," said Katie grimly. "Davies beat the twins to the evening slot, and you know the twins... absolutely refused to miss lunch three times a week."

"But there's the kitchens!" Alicia cried.

"You're telling me," said Angelina darkly. "But fine. It's fine. It just means more privacy. I fucking hate when everyone comes to gawk during practice anyway."

Alicia was not fine with it, but she refrained from voicing her opinion. Obviously nothing could be done about it. They would just have to make do.

The girls exchanged gossip as they made their way back into the castle towards their respective classes. Katie waved goodbye to them as she joined up with her fellow sixth years in the Great Hall.

"So how was your summer for real?" Angelina asked once Katie was out of earshot. Alicia snickered. Angelina had a mother-hen thing going on with Katie, and refused to discuss anything remotely sexual in front of the younger girl.

"Okay," Alicia muttered quietly, remembering how quickly rumours had spread the previous year about her private life. "I dunno... nothing special. Hooked up with a couple neighbourhood boys, but that was about it. Same old. One of my friends had a kid, though."

Angelina raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. Alicia had never invited any of them to her place, but judging by the stories, she had a pretty decent idea of the sort of life Alicia had led, and might have led, without Hogwarts.

"Pregnant, eh? Damn... thank god we're witches."

Alicia nodded. "Cute kid, though. The dad's a real prick... wasn't all that surprised though, to be honest with you."

Angelina laughed. Alicia's stories from home were always entertaining, even the awful ones. Purebloods simply didn't go around having kids out of wedlock, even the trashy ones. It just wasn't done. And any witch worth her name knew a half dozen contraception charms by fifteen, if not a couple of potions. And... well, if somehow all preventative methods had failed, then there was always a trip to St. Mungo's... Not that Angelina dared mention any of this. It was a bit of a sore spot for Alicia...

"How was your summer, then?" Alicia asked, winking slyly at her friend.

"Bugger off," Angelina laughed. "I can see you already know all about it and the answer is blah. You know my parents, it's always this and that, etiquette, darling! Finger in the air! I said curls, not waves, sweetheart! Quidditch captain? Are you mad! No, dear, you may not go to the Weasley's home unescorted!"

Alicia laughed, trying to picture Angelina leaving the house in a nice, boring knee-length dress, only to run to the nearest washroom to change into a pair of shorts and a tank top to run about muggle London.

"But... well, yeah. Things have been... hectic. Mum's going nuts about the whole debutante thing, and Dad's up to his neck in Ministry shit."

Alicia winced at the word debutante. She and Angelina were going to have their "coming out" over Yule, at a posh dinner and dance for all the established families in wizarding society in Engand and on the continent. It was the one larger social event of the year in the wizarding world where invitees were not chosen by blood but by money, though the purer the blood generally meant the bigger the bank account. Alicia's grandmother had it explained it all to her once... for debutantes it meant two weeks of scurrying back and forth between parties and dinners and dances. Mercifully, only the official coming out reception was where they would have to mingle with the Slytherin sort... all the other events were strictly by personal invitation only, meaning family and and friends and desirable acquaintances and no Death Eater wannabes. At least, not at the parties she'd be invited to...

"You are coming, aren't you?" asked Angelina suddenly. "Katie's going to be there... not to come out obviously, but I mean... shit, I can't do it on my own! I'll puke! And Fred won't be there cause mother would flip..."

Alicia rolled her eyes.

"Like I'm any more acceptable. I'm a bastard, remember? And I'm poor."

Alicia was pleased with herself - she'd only let a hint of bitterness escape with that comment.

Angelina punched her in the arm.

"Don't say that!"

"Well it's true." And it was. Alicia's mother was, as far as wizarding society was concerned, a disgrace. Even as far as blood-traitors went, she was a disgrace. Hell, even in the muggle world she was a disgrace.

Aurora DeWitt was the only daughter of the esteemed, very pure, DeWitt family, and at the age of seventeen, she'd fallen in love with a muggle and had promptly hightailed out of the wizarding world, not to be seen or heard of for three years. It wasn't until after the downfall of the Dark Lord that Tristan and Sophie Dewitt had dared venture out in search of their runaway 'blood-traitor' daughter. They were properly horrified to discover her living in a cramped two bedroom apartment on top of a seedy bar owned by one Alan 'Pink' Spinnet, twenty-four. When they'd burst into the apartment unannounced, both Tristan and Sophie had nearly died of shock - there stood their twenty-year-old only daughter in nothing but her knickers and a large t-shirt with the words _Sex Pistols_ printed on it (_Sex! It said sex!_), baby Alicia in one hand, cigarette in the other, and no ring on either. The survival of the DeWitts had come to this - one drooling, giggling bastard baby in the arms of her runaway teen mother.

Alicia's grandparents were almost not quite shocked when, later on in the evening, they were properly introduced to the man who had stolen their daughter. The man was, as far as either Tristan or Sophie could tell, a hoodlum. He had tattoos and an ear piercing and spoke like he was born in the gutters. Of course, Aurora would not hear a word against him, and promptly invited her parents to leave when they demanded she hand baby Alicia over to their care.

And so over the years, arrangements were made, in which Alicia would spend the first two weeks of the summer holidays with her grandparents at their seaside villa, learning how to be a proper lady, only to have all her lessons erased as soon as she returned to London much to their dismay. This summer had been no different. As usual, her mother had picked her up at King's Cross, dropped her off at the DeWitt's villa, and she'd spent two dull weeks learning how to dance and how to eat a sandwich without dropping crumbs. Only this time, the lessons had been... serious, for lack of a better word. All for the sake of one terrible night. She couldn't remember a time when she'd been more grateful to return home to London, after those two weeks of utter hell.

"I'll be there," Alicia muttered grimly. "Not that I'll be happy about it. Gran said it'll probably be a scandal though, once they realize who I am."

Angelina scoffed.

"Everything's a scandal with those people."

"Yeah, well... gran hasn't been exactly public about my existence if know what I mean."

Angelina gave her a sad smile and Alicia fake-puked in disgust.

"Don't. This isn't some stupid pity party."

"Please, like I'd ever pity your ass, miss I-get-to-party-in-London-every-sodding-summer-Spinnet!"

Alicia smiled. Yes. There was that.

* * *

The library was, as always, dead silent. Cassius breathed deeply as he walked swiftly down the aisles. Books were probably his favourite smell in the world, not that you'd catch him ever admitting _that_ out loud.

The place was more or less deserted, as it was still the beginning of the year, and he was all the more glad of it. As embarrassing as it was to admit, he actually liked Hogwarts' library. It was an extensive maze of books on every subject imaginable, and every time he came back he discovered some quiet new corner or aisle that he could have sworn hadn't been there the last time. Which was, now that he thought about it, probably the case. Hogwarts _was_ a magical castle, after all.

Another reason Cassius enjoyed the library was the absolute silence. He'd always been a quiet sort, and had been rather solitary as a child, preferring to entertain himself with books and hiding in the gardens than to play with the other children his parents' friends always seemed to bring along. Montague had always been the exception, the two having been born within days of each other at St. Mungo's, and their mothers being best friends since their own Hogwarts days. Pucey, too, was an exception, though they hadn't really gotten on until Hogwarts, when Montague had insisted that Cassius expand his horizons just a bit lest he be ostracized for the next seven years. And so they'd formed a nice little trio, and Cassius admittedly grew rather fond of Pucey's screwball antics. He was almost like a younger brother of sorts. But sometimes - okay, often - he needed his solitary peace, and the library was the only place he could be guaranteed to find it.

Except now. Because obviously - obviously!- the Fates were out to get him. Whatever he'd done to anger the gods in his seventeen years of existence were now coming to haunt him, all in the form of Alicia bloody Spinnet.

He wanted to shake her, only he knew that doing so would lead to him being locked up in St. Mungo's somewhere, probably with Gilderoy Lockhart as his roommate. All she was doing was reading, after all, and wasn't it what he'd come here to do?

He screamed inwardly in frustration. Spinnet hadn't even noticed him. She sat quietly, absorbed in whatever book she was reading -

He froze. Was it That Book? She was certainly sucking on her sugar quill avidly enough.

Fuck. It just wasn't possible. How could he have possibly angered the Fates to the point of -

Enough. He was going mad. She wasn't doing anything. He was blowing everything out of proportion. There, she was writing something down now. Homework. She was obviously doing homework, because that's what normal students did in a library.

Suddenly, she looked up.

Cassius could have cursed himself. He clutched his wand and gave her a tight sneer. She raised an eyebrow.

"Do you want something?" she whispered quickly, her eyes glancing around in case Pince happened to be lurking about.

Cassius could think of a dozen different things he wanted from her. He told her so. She flushed. So predictable.

"Go away, Warrington, I've already got enough bullocks to deal with right now without you adding to it. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you lot always paid other people to do your work for you."

Cassius sneered. Good. This was good. Animosity, he could deal with; Spinnet sitting innocently, sucking on a sugar quill quite oblivious to his presence, he could not.

He slid down into the seat opposite of hers, and she groaned softly.

"Christ, what do you want?"

That question again. Did she ever learn? He smirked.

"I dunno. Figured I'd pay you to do my work for me," he said in a snarky voice.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I deserved that one. Now will you please leave? I really don't feel like having Pince kick me out right now for having to hex you."

"Why would you hex me? I'm just here to do my work, same as you," he replied innocently. To prove his point, he pulled out _Hogwarts: A History_ out of his bag. _  
_

Spinnet's face couldn't have been any more red.

"Oh, don't worry Spinnet," he said casually, "It really is _Hogwarts: A History_. I don't know what you're thinking of, but it must be rather naughty, since you seem so embarrassed. Don't you like history?"

Spinnet's sugar quill shattered in her hand, and she swore under her breath.

"_Reparo_. Fuck off, Warrington. Please."

God, he liked it when she begged. How fucking perverse. It was like she knew she was at his mercy - one wrong slip, and in a second, the entire school could know what sort of reading Spinnet liked to do in her spare time. It was irony, really; she didn't have a clue that this was one little secret that he would actually keep to himself. If anything, it was self-subjugation on her part. No guilt.

Cassius pulled out a scroll of parchment, ink and a quill. Well, now that he was here, why not get some homework done and bother the hell out of Spinnet while he was at it? He knew how she worked. Bloody Gryffindors, all the same. She wouldn't dare leave, not now. It'd be like directly admitting her fear of him.

Was she afraid of him? She certainly seemed skittish enough. Fuck. And there she was at it, sucking on that goddamn quill, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she tried to get back into her reading, ignoring his presence.

She wanted to play, did she? Fine. Two could play at that game.

* * *

Why wouldn't he bloody leave already?

Alicia had come to the library right after dinner in order to get started on McGonagall's first assignment of the year. It wasn't due for another three weeks, but Alicia had learned from experience that one essay turned into six, and floundering in the library with two hundred other cramming students three days before everything was due was not the way to get things done properly.

Apparently Warrington had the same idea. She'd been shocked when she'd looked up to stretch her back, only to see him standing there. She'd been even more shocked when he'd sat down across from her and had actually begun studying, albeit only after making fun of her for the first five minutes.

And now, he wouldn't leave. He sat there like he'd gotten there first.

This was _her_ table, dammit! She'd been so pleased when she'd found it back in her fourth year, the nice antique table with all its secret little drawers that never opened, and the big worn leather chairs that seemed to mould to her body as soon as she sat down.

And the worst part was, he really was working. He hadn't looked up at her or had said anything rude in the past hour, and as she peeked over at his work, he'd actually written a good two feet of notes.

Alicia looked down at her own meagre work.

A foot, at the most. A lot of marginalia. A lot of _fuck you_'s scrawled in random places.

"Giving up so soon?" he said, suddenly, eyes still glued to his books.

Alicia huffed.

"Just taking a break. _I've_ been here longer than you, in case you forgot. And anyway, shouldn't you be off studying somewhere else? What would Montague say? _Consorting with the enemy!_"

Warrington looked up.

"Don't be stupid. I'd say I was here first."

"That's ridiculous," she spluttered. "I would never voluntarily sit next to you!"

Warrington looked at her, offended.

"Why not? I'm a catch," he said seriously.

Alicia gawked at him.

"You're not bloody serious -

He shrugged. "You're a half-blood. I would never go after you, and even if I did, nobody would believe me. Doesn't stop you girls from going after me, though. I've seen the way you lot look at me. Don't worry Spinnet, even if anyone did see us, they'd just write you off as another bird who wants to hop on my -

"Don't even finish that sentence," Alicia spluttered indignantly. "I can't believe I'm even hearing this -

Warrington shrugged. "Don't take it personally. That's just the way it is."

Don't take it personally? This had to be a joke. Alicia couldn't even come up with a response to his little narcissistic trip. But the worst part was, he was right about the whole thing. He was definitely one of the finer male specimens in school, despite his haughty better-than-thou, _oh you're a half-blood_ snootiness, it was true - he was a catch. If you were pureblood, anyhow. While he would never look twice at some halfblood, as he'd so eloquently put it, that didn't stop any of the girls from looking. And now, Alicia was just as guilty. _  
_

It was absolute masochism.

But she couldn't help it. Even after hearing his disgusting ego-trip, she couldn't help but half fall apart at his smell. Even his voice, despite the horrendous things that came out of that sexy mouth -

Alicia forced her mind to shut down.

She shut her book and packed away her ink pot and quill.

"Alright, Warrington," she said warily, "I give up. You beat me, you bloody prick. See you in Arithmancy."

She stood up and picked up her bag and stuffed her robes into it. Warrington ignored her. Douche.

Well what the hell was she expecting? A bloody kiss good bye? This was too much. She shouldn't have even spoken to him as civilly as she did. Nor should he ever have sat down across from her in the first place. Too much. It was all too damned much. Angelina would have strung her up from her toes and dropped her into the Great Lake.

Alicia left the library and decided to wander the halls for a bit. She didn't want to go back to the common room because studying there was virtually impossible. She could have simply sat somewhere else in the library, but it just wouldn't do. She could _feel _his stupid presence in there.

She nearly screamed in surprise when, as she started down the corridor, a hand landed on her shoulder, seemingly out of nowhere.

"What the -

Alicia froze.

It was Him. She could smell him.

She turned around wordlessly.

"Do you want to shag?"

* * *

He'd decided it as he watched her leave, unhappily clutching her book bag. His eyes had followed every sway of her hips as she made her silent retreat, the pleats of her skirt swishing back and forth with every step. Indecent. Absolutely indecent. Hemmed, obviously - he couldn't imagine _thigh-high skirt_ being written down on the girls' annual school list, signed in McGonagall's elegant hand.

Fuck. And now she was gone.

He quickly packed away his belongings and followed her. Stupid girl, she looked at everything she passed, reminding him of an overstimulated child that saw everything but noticed nothing. She didn't even realize he was following her until he'd physically touched her. She'd jerked back as though he'd burned her, twirling around, her long hair hitting him in the face.

"What the -

He interrupted her, and she stared up at him suspiciously, though he noticed that telltale flush creeping up her neck ever so slowly.

"Do you want to shag?"

He hadn't meant to say it, of course. Not like that, anyway. In fact, up until the words had come out, he hadn't been sure if he was going to say anything at all. But apparently his prick was a little bit ahead of the game because it certainly wasn't his brain...

She stared at him, gaping like a fish, but he took it as a good sign that she hadn't hexed him yet.

"I - are - is this a joke?" she spluttered, still staring at him like he'd sprouted an extra head.

Cassius shrugged. He hadn't really thought any of this out. No, he certainly had not.

He walked away, then, knowing that she would follow him. This was not the sort of thing he wanted to discuss in front of the school library.

And as usual, he was right. He hadn't walked five feet, when he heard the clicking of her heels as she speed-walked behind him. A couple of fifth year Slytherins passed by, and nodded at him, but stared suspiciously at Spinnet. Cassius looked back, pretending as though he hadn't noticed her presence.

"Stalking me, Spinnet?" he sneered.

Spinnet froze, glancing over at the fifth years, who were sniggering as they passed by.

"Fuck off, Warrington, contrary to what you may think, the hallways are public domain."

The fifth years disappeared into the library, and Cassius continued to walk, satisfied that suspicion had been averted.

When they ended up on an abandoned corridor on the fourth floor, Cassius stopped, and turned to look back at Spinnet, who had most definitely followed him.

She stood there warily, one hand on her hip, the other still holding the strap of her book bag.

"Okay, the only reason I followed you here is because I'm curious," she said a little too quickly.

Cassius smirked. "Simple enough question, Spinnet. You. Me. Lets do the nasty. Yes?"

Spinnet's blush would have put a tomato to shame.

"You can't just say that! You prick, what the fuck was that ego trip in the library all about then -

"Oh, I didn't say anything about dating you. Obviously anything we do would be... confidential -

She scoffed. "Right, confidential, until you decide you've had enough of me, and blab to your stupid friends -

"Please. What do you take me for? If anything, I have more to lose here than you do. You're a half-blood, remember? And last I checked, it's you girls who are always off running your mouths to each other about every bloody detail of your lives."

"Right, how could I forget. You're an ass. This is ridiculous. I can't believe I actually followed you here - I should just tell everyone, that'd be a bloody riot and a half."

Cassius rolled his eyes. "Stop. No drama. Let's just do it once, and if it goes well, we can do it again. If one of us gets tired of it, we stop. End of story. You're obviously sexually frustrated -

"Excuse me!"

" - or you wouldn't be reading that - that _book_ of yours -

"That's not any of your business!"

Cassius shrugged. "I'm just offering you a little... business deal. Check that temper of yours for one second and hear me out. I want to shag you. You obviously want to shag me, otherwise you wouldn't be here right now. Nobody has to know anything, if that's what you're all worked up about it. Hell, I'll even cast a binding charm -

"How do you even know how to cast a binding charm? Seems like your pretty well versed at this," she said suspiciously.

"My father is the head of a law firm," he replied dryly. "And I've had to be. Can't have some bitch come whining about being knocked up after lying about taking a contreceptive potion or something."

"Right, because girls are just dying to have your baby," she said sarcastically.

"I'm rich. I come from a good family. It happens, Spinnet."

"Uh huh. You're not helping your case here - I don't even like you! You don't even like me!"

"I don't have to like you, Spinnet. We're not here to make friends."

They stared at each other in silence.

"I - I want to think about it."

He smirked. "As an incentive... we can even try some of your favourite scenes -

Spinnet choked in embarrassment.

"God, would you just forget the bloody book already!"

"Why? You want to read about it but you don't want to try it? Wait..."

Cassius looked at her suspiciously. "You're... you're not a virgin, are you?"

Spinnet scowled.

"That's not any -

"If I'm going to shag you, I think it's my business to know whether or not you're a virgin -

"I'm not a bloody virgin!" she all but shrieked.

Cassius smirked. "How rather enthusiastic of you."

"Fuck you. This is stupid. See? This could never work - all I want to do is curse your bloody stupid face right now!"

"So why don't you? Last I checked, you've never been one to shy away from duels."

Spinnet crossed her arms and looked at him sullenly. Cassius waited for her to say something, but she simply stared at him.

"Kiss me."

Cassius looked at her in surprise. Had he heard that correctly?

Spinnet stared at him petulantly, arms still crossed, looking like an irritated child. He raised an eyebrow.

"Well? What are you waiting for? If I don't like kissing you, then this is obviously not going to work."

"Fair enough."

They looked at each other silently. Well this wasn't awkward at all. Cassius had never been in a situation like this before. While he still wanted her, there was something very... off. The whole situation was off. Artificial. That was it - everything felt artificial.

Still... she wanted a kiss, did she? Fine. Cassius wasn't going to say no to that. Circe, this was awkward.

"Come here," he muttered sourly.

"Merlin, how romantic," she said sarcastically.

"Shut it, Spinnet - I'm not your sodding boyfriend."

Spinnet rolled her eyes.

"Well if that doesn't turn me on, I don't know what -

Cassius grabbed her by the arms and held her up against the wall, pinning her hands up over her head. She let out a harsh breath and stared up at him.

"You have quite the mouth on you, Spinnet," he murmured, leaning in so closely that his lips just barely brushed the shell of her ear. "I think you could be using it for other things."

She shuddered beneath him, and he felt a surge of heat in his veins. God, she smelled good. Raspberries, that damned shampoo of hers. He breathed deeply and dropped a kiss on the side of her neck. She let out a whimper and squirmed. Cassius held her arms tighter and stepped towards her to fill the gap between them. He brushed his lips across her collarbone, breathing harshly, and he pressed a leg between hers so that she was trapped against the wall. She let out a proper little moan and writhed against his leg. He dropped her arms and grabbed her by the chin. She stared at him through half-lidded eyes, her hands holding his arms for support. He kissed her.

* * *

Alicia had apparently died and gone to hell, and Warrington was the torturer. He kissed her deeply, one hand clutching her hair, the other digging into her side. She kissed him back just as fiercely, running her hands through his hair, gasping as he tore away from her lips and moved on to her collarbones then up her neck.

"You like it rough?" he groaned into her ear, almost sounding surprised by her reaction to his kiss.

Alicia flushed.

"You don't have to be embarrassed. If that's what you like, I think we'll both be happy -

She ground herself against his thigh when his wandering fingers suddenly found their way to her bra.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Keep that up and I'll fuck you against the wall, Spinnet."

"Alicia," she gasped, as he nipped at her neck.

"Alicia," he groaned when she gently ran her hands down under his shirt, across his chest.

"This is bad," she whispered, kissing his chest where the top buttons of his shirt were undone as always. "This is really bad."

Suddenly, he stepped away from her, breathing quickly, and ran his hands through his dishevelled hair.

Alicia looked at him in surprise.

"Thought you were going to fuck me against the wall," she teased softly.

He looked pained, but shook his head.

"Forget it Ali - Spinnet. Sleep on it. If you're still game tomorrow..."

"We can work something out," she finished, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"_Lisso_," he muttered, flicking his wand towards her.

Alicia raised an eyebrow.

"Glamour charm? You read _Witch Weekly_?"

Warrington rolled his eyes.

"See you tomorrow, Spinnet."

He straightened out his tie and smoothed down his hair before walking down the corridor, leaving Alicia to stare at his retreating back.

"Hey! What's your name?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks again to ShadowQuill426!**

* * *

Alicia winced for what felt like the thousandth time. If she kept it up, she had no doubt that her face might freeze, and she would be permanently disfigured, like Malfoy and his perpetual sneer.

Malfoy. Lord, the little bitch certainly knew how to let his mouth run. Alicia scowled as the Slytherin Quidditch team hurled well-timed insults whenever she or Katie threw a quaffle in Ron Weasley's direction. The poor boy was more than flustered - he was trembling like a leaf, and Alicia could see it from here, the way he bobbed up and down on his broom as the insults got louder and louder.

Friday nights were the only evening slots the twins had managed to book, because nobody wanted to practice after a long week of school. Personally, Alicia didn't mind - morning practices were going to be ten times worse, and she was not anticipating the next week. She winced again, when Katie's quaffle not only hit poor Ron in the head, but actually managed to hop through one of the hoops upon deflection. The Slytherins whooped. Pricks.

The sad part was, Ron was undoubtedly the best potential keeper they'd seen thus far. Alicia didn't doubt for a second that McLaggen would have done better, but the idiot was locked up in the Hospital Wing as Angelina had predicted, and so it looked like Ron would be their replacement for Oliver.

_Weasley is our king_, the Slytherins chanted, and Alicia couldn't help but privately agree, as bad as she felt. Still. Ron was a nice boy, and he was a Gryffindor.

"I swear to God," Alicia muttered as she flew down to land, "I'm going to hex them all."

The Gryffindor team, with the exception of Harry who was in detention, as well as all the potential keepers, stood around in a circle while Angelina congratulated them on their efforts. They ignored the Slytherins, who continued to chant _Weasley is our king_ while guffawing loudly. Alicia could hear Warrington's rough laugh, and it made a shiver crawl down her spine. Out of disgust, she hoped, of course.

He'd all but ignored her since the Incident, and she'd been equally cool towards him. Not that this was anything unusual. She had to keep reminding herself that they were not friends, that they weren't even acquaintances, and that ignoring each other was normal - expected, in fact. Despite the... heated nature of their last run-in, it was not something that could be - or should be - repeated. It had been a mistake, and she was certain that he'd felt the same way. Surely he wasn't waiting for her to actually get back to him on his... proposition. It had to have been some kind of joke. Despite having had Arithmancy, Theory of Magic and Ancient Studies together over the last two days, they'd managed to keep a distance. Everything was normal. Absolutely normal, right down to his presence here with the rest of his teammates, insulting their potential keepers and shouting vulgarities about how the only brooms the chasers ought to have been riding were their brooms. Original. Very original. And absolutely not directed at her in any meaningful sort of way. Again, It had to have been some kind of joke, something Warrington had undoubtedly cooked up to get a little action, and to throw her off her game. And it was working. Just a little tiny bit, but it was working.

"So something tells me that we're going to have to do triple the scoring this year if we want to make up for... well, Oliver's absence, shall we say," Katie mumbled as they sat in the common room by the fire, discussing the disastrous nature of the last practice.

"At least we've still got Harry," Alicia muttered dejectedly.

"Ickle Ronniekins is definitely going to need some work," said Fred.

"Never would have thought a Weasley would be so rubbish," George added.

"He's not bad," said Angelina, "He just needs... confidence. Which, by the way, you two have done nothing to help him with over the years! No wonder he's so bloody nervous!"

"I would be too if you were my brothers," said Alicia darkly.

"Oi, we're not that bad!"

"Nope, we're worse!"

The girls rolled their eyes. Angelina opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly they were interrupted by a little cough.

They all craned their necks over their shoulders.

"Oh, 'ello Hermione," said Fred.

"Erm, I hope wasn't interrupting anything serious but, er, I do have something ask you all."

The Gryffindor quidditch team exchanged wary glances. They all knew enough about Hermione's SPEW campaign to last them a lifetime.

"Er, as a matter of fact -

"This isn't about SPEW," said Hermione quickly. She glanced around her to see if anybody was looking. "It's... well, I was thinking that... since DADA is an absolute sham this year -

The team cut her off, every single one of them spouting obscenities about Umbridge and the ridiculousness of the year's curriculum.

"I WAS THINKING," Hermione said loudly, then dropping her voice, "I was thinking that maybe - we should just teach ourselves. And... well, since Harry's got loads of practical skill, that he should be the one to do it. Only, I haven't spoken to him about it yet, obviously, so I'm just going around asking a few people how they would feel about it and -

"Absolutely," said Alicia without second thought, "Sign me up. Fucking Umbridge can take her curriculum and shove it up her arse -

Hermione looked momentarily pained by Alicia's use of language, but she beamed anyway.

"Count us in too," the others chimed.

"Excellent, okay, great! I'm going to go speak with some other people, and then I'll let you know what Harry has to say about it. Oh, but you wouldn't mind contributing to -

"Sorry, Hermione, we haven't any money at the moment," said George.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course you haven't. Speaking of money, I know you've been paying first years -

Angelina interrupted her, and kindly suggested that she bring up the twins' experimentations later, after they'd picked a keeper for the year.

"... So. I guess Ron's the new keeper, then?" said Alicia weakly, once Hermione was out of earshot.

At breakfast the next morning, Angelina received a letter from her father informing her that there were some changes about to take place at Hogwarts, and that it was best if she and her friends kept a low profile for the year. The girls exchanged wary glances, and looked up at Umbridge, who beamed at the students with a horrible glint in her eye.

"Something's up," said Katie, stating the obvious.

"I really really fucking hope that Harry's going get this DADA thing on soon," said Alicia, "Because if he doesn't, I swear to God, I'm going to start practicing on the next person to piss me off."

It turned out, naturally, that the first person to piss her off was Warrington.

Alicia had been the first to leave the locker room for practice, and as she walked onto the pitch, the first thing she heard was Warrington's unfortunately familiar laugh. She looked up and around, and saw that the Slytherin quidditch team was, yet again, perched up on their side of the stands, waiting to heckle the Gryffindors. Warrington looked down at her, his face as impassive as always, but with one dark eyebrow raised impossibly high, with the barest of crinkles around the corner of his eyes. He was laughing at her.

Alicia gritted her teeth, refusing to allow herself to blush. Not this time. She hopped onto her broom, ignoring the raucous laughter and stupid insults, and she flew around the pitch as she waited for her teammates to show up. One by one the others appeared and joined her. Ignore, ignore, ignore seemed to be the general unspoken policy.

Ron was the last to appear, and he trailed behind Harry, clutching his broom and looking like he was going to puke. The Slytherins howled in laughter, and Malfoy shouted, "Weasley is our king!"

"Fucking pricks," Angelina mumbled.

Practice ended in disaster, just as Alicia had suspected. Ron had buckled under the pressure of being watched by the handful of students who'd come by simply to watch the new Gryffindor keeper, and the jeers from the Slytherins who'd come for the sole purpose of, well, making him buckle. During passing drills, he'd thrown the quaffle a little too hard, and Angelina had to escort poor Katie to the Hospital Wing when the twins' attempt to fix her bloody nose had only made things even worse.

Dejected, Alicia wandered into the locker rooms with the rest of the team. The boys disappeared to their side, and Alicia stumbled into the girls' shower, dropping her clothes as she went.

The hot water felt good on her back. It'd been chilly out, a disheartening reminder of the weather that was to come. Practice hadn't been nearly long enough or vigorous enough to make up for the bite of the wind.

She was just about to slather on her shampoo when she heard footsteps echo across the tiles.

"Angie?" she called out. "I swear to god, if it's Fred or George -

Whoever it was let out a sarcastic scoff.

"Please, just stop there, I don't think I've ever been more offended in my life."

Alicia shrieked. She poked her head out from behind the shower curtain, and much to her horror, Warrington stood before her, smirking.

"You - You - What the fuck are you doing in here? How did you even -

"Well, I walked in, there was nobody in the anteroom, and I decided to pay you a little visit."

"You fucking pedophile -

"I think you have to be a child for me to qualify as a pedophile," Warrington interrupted. Alicia flushed when he bent down and picked up her bra, holding it by the strap with one finger. She nearly rushed out to grab it from him, only remembering that she was completely naked.

"You prick, get out of here! What the hell are you doing in here, anyway?"

"Well, you never got back to me on -

"NO!" Alicia screeched. "N, O, No! Merlin, and you thought it'd be a bloody good idea to just pop on over and see if I want to be your new flavour of the sodding month? Where's my wand? Get the hell out of here! Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening. And give me my bra back!"

Warrington grinned and stepped back.

"Why don't you come and get it?"

"You pervert, I can't believe this is happening!"

"Believe it, Spinnet. Anyway, if you'd only been civil -

"Argh!"

Alicia yanked down the shower curtain with all her force, and she muttered triumphantly as it tore. She wrapped it around herself, and holding it together with one hand, she stepped out of the shower and stomped over towards Warrington. He smiled at her mockingly.

"Give me my bra back," she hissed, jabbing him in the chest.

"Funny," he mused, "Never took you for the lacey sort."

"Warrington!"

"Cassius."

"What?"

"Cassius. You asked me what my name was the other day. It's Cassius."

"Of course it is," said Alicia sarcastically. "And I don't give a shit! Give me back - oh for Christ's sake."

She crouched down and snatched her wand from the tangles of her robes and hastily rose to her feet. She raised her wand to summon her bra, when suddenly, he tossed it in her direction. Her chaser skills never failed her, and this rather unfortunate situation was no exception. Without hesitation, she flung her arm out and caught the offending item mid-air. The caress of cool air across her skin and Warrington's choked gasp told her she'd made a mistake. For a split-second, neither of them moved, too shocked to say or do a thing. Then, when the burn of embarrassment hit Alicia's cheeks like a well-aimed hex, she reacted with all the grace of Ron Weasley with a quaffle aimed at his head, and she dropped to the floor to grab the shower curtain, limbs flailing in desperation as she tried to cover herself as quickly as possible.

Warrington, for his part, looked just as flustered, and for a second, Alicia felt sharp satisfaction.

"Honestly," he said hoarsely, "I didn't mean for that to happen. But for what it's worth -

"Get. Out."

"Spinnet -

"Get out!"

And much to Alicia's surprise, Warrington turned around and fled. Well no, not really. Warrington didn't really strike her as the fleeing type. He sauntered out. And when he was gone, Alicia slumped down onto the floor in shock.

* * *

Cassius groaned for the umpteenth time as he swam around in the Prefect's bathroom, trying not to picture his fantasy-come-reality, without much success. Montague had given him the password to the bathroom the second he'd gotten it, and Cassius had taken advantage of it as much as possible. It was moments like these that made him appreciate how good a friend Montague really was.

"You should go to the Hospital Wing," somebody called out suddenly.

Cassius stiffened.

"What the - who's there?"

He looked around, but the bathroom was empty. Of course it was, the portrait door automatically locked whenever somebody came in. He groaned again when Moaning Myrtle suddenly materialized, giggling like the school girl that she perpetually was.

"Get out," Cassius snarled.

"Oooh, you're not very nice," she said indignantly. "And here I was, trying to be all friendly -

"I'm in the bath!" he exclaimed.

"Well I only thought I would try to be friendly... I was just passing through, but you keep making that awful groan - I'm sure if you visited the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey would fix you all up," said Myrtle, sounding slightly miffed.

Cassius groaned again.

"See?"

"Argh! I'm not ill. Just - just leave. Now."

"Hmph, as though I'd want to stay here with you anyhow."

Cassius flinched when the ghost dove in his direction, but she disappeared into the wall behind him. He sighed in relief.

Fucking Myrtle... The heir of Slytherin had done nobody a favour by killing her off. She'd be an annoying little brat for the rest of her ghostly existence.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Myrtle had taken away any safety he'd felt in being able to rub one out in private - who knew what other ghosts could be hanging around, snickering in silence amongst themselves while he got himself off like a prepubescent first year... but the downside was the image of a very wet and very naked Alicia Spinnet still haunted him, ever since she'd kicked him out of the Gryffindor locker rooms some six hours earlier, and now there was nothing he could do to relieve the tension. Madame Pomfrey indeed. He shuddered at the thought.

At dinner, he mentioned Moaning Myrtle's presence to Montague, who didn't even bat an eye.

"Yeah, I know," he said, "Flint warned me about her."

"And you didn't think that maybe I'd find it a little pertinent that the ghost of a twelve year old bitch likes to hang around the prefect's bathroom?"

Montague shrugged as he chewed on his steak.

"To be honest, I kind of forgot. If you start getting yourself off, she just goes away. Freaks her out or something like that."

Cassius was glad that he wasn't the only one to choke in surprise. Montague thumped Pucey on the back.

"What the fuck?" said Pucey. "I don't even want to bloody know how you figured that one out."

"Flint told me," said Montague. "He said that one day he was going at it and Moaning Myrtle passed through, only she didn't realize what he was doing at first, but when she did, she hightailed it out of there."

Cassius let out a snort of disgust.

"For Circe's sake, that's the last fucking thing I really need to picture right now."

"Yeah, well, it definitely works -

Cassius choked again.

"Merlin's fucking beard," he said, "Are you telling me that everybody who goes in there - that's just disgusting, mate. How many people use that bathroom on a daily basis?"

"There are such things as house elves. Anyway, I always _scourgify_ everything before I get in."

"And you couldn't tell us this before?" Pucey deadpanned.

Montague shrugged again, and Cassius groaned in disbelief.

"Sometimes, mate, I think you do it on bloody purpose."

"Do what on purpose?"

Cassius had to refrain from banging his head on the table. Sometimes - just sometimes - Montague could be really thick.

From the other side of the Great Hall, cheers echoed. The boys glanced up, and inevitably, the noise was coming from the Gryffindor table. Bell had just walked in, looking fresh and happy as though nothing had happened. Her friends greeted her, and Cassius smirked when the girl whacked both twins on the back of their heads as she slid into her seat. Suddenly, Spinnet's eyes met his from out of nowhere, and he felt himself tense. She glared at him, a flush high on her cheeks, either from embarrassment or anger, most likely both. He waited for her to quickly look away as she usually did, but this time, she held his gaze. He narrowed his eyes.

"What are you looking at?" said Pucey curiously.

"Nothing," Cassius replied, refusing to look away. It'd become a contest, and he could see her lips moving, undoubtedly explaining to her friends why she was staring at him, because both Bell and Johnson suddenly had their eyes on him.

"Why are the gryffinbitches staring at you?"

"Because," said Cassius through gritted teeth, "I don't know. It's a staring contest. And I just lost. Thanks, Ade, really appreciate it."

"You're welcome."

On Monday morning, Cassius was thoroughly unrested and unexcited to begin another week of classes. Sleep had escaped him ever since Saturday's Incident. Things were, in fact, becoming unbearable. He'd actually gone as far as hooking up with Charlene Cartel the previous night, with whom he'd more or less severed ties with the year before, and despite having given a tip-top performance judging by her cries, he'd failed yet again to take his mind off what was starting to feel suspiciously like an obsession with Spinnet.

Kissing her had not been the mistake. The mistake had been not taking it further when he'd had the chance. He'd left her hanging, and now his poor decision-making skills had come back to haunt him with a vengeance.

He made sure to present himself nice and early for Ancient Runes, and he sat in the far back corner of the classroom, far from professor Babbling's spitting range, and far from Spinnet's usual choice of seating, which tended to be dead centre.

For Circe's sake... now how in the hell did he know that?

He refrained from exploring the matter further, and instead, distracted himself by flirting with the three Ravenclaw girls who were in the class. When the three Ravenclaw boys showed up, he actually began enjoying himself somewhat, because he could see the three boys becoming more and more tense with every second giggle. He almost hadn't even noticed Spinnet walk in, had she not stumbled over one of the Ravenclaws' book bag as she tried to get herself a seat. Before he could say anything, though, Professor Babbling strode into the class, shutting the door behind her, looking less than pleased.

"Professor - ahem, High Inquisitor Umbridge will be joining us later today," she announced crisply, clasping her hands together in front of her, "So I do expect all of you to be on your best behaviour. Today we will be discussing the social structure and context behind blood magic, and then we will be looking at a range of curses and spells specific to families. As you all know, much of the magic that is known to us today is a combination of continuous invention, as well as the publicizing of what was once considered private, sacred magic, kept as secrets amongst families, passed on from generation to generation in an oral form. Much of it was, of course, lost as the years went on. Others exist to us through Ancient Runes.

Actually, now's quite a good time to discuss this your project for the semester. And as I understand, you are all taking History of Magic, of course, as is required of you, as well as Advanced Arithmancy. Because of the close relation between the three subjects, Professors Binns and Vector and I have decided to take advantage of this opportunity to create a project that will be used for evaluation purposes in all three classes, instead of assigning three separate projects. You will be researching blood magic as a general topic.

In this class, each group will be assigned a package of works that will have to be translated. I need the usual diplomatic edition, the eclectic and the critical editions. You will then be required to research whatever it is you uncover - that is, the spells themselves, the social context, the historical context, the family of origin - all this falls under Professor Binns' sphere of evaluation. The use of primary - that is Runic sources - is a must. Your other research needs can be met using secondary sources. Now, you will all notice that at least some parts of your packages will contain information pertaining to Arithmancy.

Once you have translated the works, Professor Vector requires you to make use of the information in order to compose the usual number charts and to solve any Arithmantic problems you may come across. She would then like each of you to create full Arithmantic profiles of your partners, and to theoretically apply them to any charms, curses or spells to see how each one would have to be modified in order to suit the given Arithmantic profile.

Let me be very clear that we are not giving you any more work than in any of the other years - in fact, if anything, we have lessened your load, because in the past, this assignment was given out by each of us as individual projects, and your other professors and I did not collaborate on the texts we handed out. Let me also underline the importance of _not_ applying any of the spells or curses you uncover. Some of these curses can be extremely dangerous, if not deadly_. _I can only say it is safe to assume that it will be next to impossible for any of these to be applied anyway, as many of them also have the added component of life magic, in addition to what is commonly called sex magic added to it, and I highly doubt any of you will be off fornicating amongst yourselves or sacrificing your fellow students for the purpose of acting out any of these spells. Just in case, however, if any of you suspect even for a second that something may have happened - and rest assured, you will know - do not hesitate for a second to report to the Hospital Wing. You must inform somebody immediately if you think even the most minor spell may have been activated. And for merlin's sake, be very careful to not accidentally cut yourselves either. We have had incidents in the past where students have given themselves minor parchment cuts whilst reciting incantations, and thankfully, nothing serious came of it. But I do shudder to think what may happen if all the conditions of any spell may have been accidentally fulfilled. Some of these do not take much more than a drop of blood. Are there any questions?"

Jasmine Clearwater raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Clearwater?"

"Do we get to pick our own partners?"

Babbling rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes," she muttered, "Always the same questions. Yes, Miss Moon?"

"When do we get to pick our partners? And when is this project due?"

"You will hand in progress reports once a week. It will be due before the holidays. And... well, I suppose now's a good a time as any. Yes, now, in fact, that way, you can all get started as soon as possible. Once you've formed your groups, please come sign up at my desk, and then we can begin lecture. Yes, Mr. Kapur?"

"How many people per group?"

"In twos!" Babbling said, sounding exasperated.

Cassius realized with sudden dread that there was only one person with whom he could be partnered with. The class of twelve was evenly divided between four Hufflepuffs, Six Ravenclaws, and then there was him. And Spinnet.

The Ravenclaws were already looking exasperated as they heatedly tried to figure out whom their potential partners would be. Notorious for their academic haughtiness, Cassius knew that they wouldn't dare risk partnering up with anybody outside their own house. The Hufflepuffs, meanwhile, were already front and centre, happily signing their names on Babbling's parchment, and pulling bits of parchment and photographs of runic scripts out from the envelopes Babbling had handed them.

Cassius groaned and stood up from his seat. Spinnet turned and glared at him.

"I can't believe this is happening," she said flatly.

"I don't want this anymore than you do," he replied dully. And it was true. He'd just about enough of Spinnet to last him a lifetime. Continued proximity to her was going to cost him dearly, he could feel it.

"Whatever, let's just get this over with. And you better not be a slacker, Warrington -

"Me? A slacker?" he said innocently. "I, at least, actually have read _Hogwarts: A History_ -

"Don't even say it!"

"Say what?"

"You're a prick."

* * *

Out of sheer madness, Alicia had agreed to meet Warrington in an abandoned classroom in order to work on the project, because working on anything in groups in the library was absolutely impossible with Pince breathing down their necks every two seconds about making noise. Binns too, had gone on about the project for the first bit of class, and had given them all recommendations on books to consult. Alicia had gone by after dinner to see if his list of books was available, and not to her surprise, somebody had beaten her to it. She snorted. Ravenclaws.

She sat on a dusty desk and kicked her legs back and forth, a childhood habit she hadn't managed to quite break, much to her grandmother's chagrin. In fact, Alicia was simply a fidgeter in general. She jumped in surprise, nearly falling off the desk when the door to the classroom suddenly swung open.

"What are you sitting here in the dark for?"

Alicia shrugged. She hadn't really noticed the dark - it was actually rather... calming. At least, it was, until He'd shown up. And now, well, it made her rather nervous that she couldn't quite see him clearly.

"_Lumos._"

Alicia didn't like Warrington's voice. It was rough and smooth all at the same time, and it made her think of things she didn't like to think about. At least, not involving him. He was so close, she could smell him. When she looked up, he stared down at her, his face eerily illuminated by the little beam of light at the tip of his wand.

"Boo."

She felt a shiver snake down her spine. Suddenly very aware that her legs were dangling over the edge of the desk in what could be perceived as an inviting manner, she crossed one over the other and leaned back, away from Warrington's presence.

"_Alluminos_," she said, pointing her wand up towards the floating candles.

She blinked at the sudden light.

"_Nox_." The tip of Warrington's wand went out.

"Let's just get this done," Alicia muttered.

Warrington dropped his book bag on the desk next to the one on which Alicia was perched.

"I managed to snag a couple of the genealogy books Binns recommended, but that prat Bishop grabbed whatever he could get his hands on."

Alicia looked at him in surprise.

"Seriously? I went by and there wasn't anything left."

Warrington looked unimpressed.

"Yeah, well you snooze you lose, Spinnet. And there you were, accusing me of being a slacker."

He pulled out a couple of books and laid them out on the desk. Alicia hopped off hers and stood next to Warrington, trying to pretend that he didn't smell good, that they hadn't kissed, and that he hadn't seen her as naked as the day she was born.

"Well... no point in looking at these now," she said, trying to sound as professional as possible. "I was thinking we just get the translations done first, that way we know what we're looking for."

"Yeah, no kidding, Spinnet," he said sarcastically.

Alicia breathed deeply.

"Listen, Warrington," she spat, "I'm trying really hard right now to pretend that I don't hate your bloody guts, okay? So if you can offer me that much, then let's just pretend that we're two people who've never met each other and who are assigned to work on the same project." She took a deep breath. "Professional."

"That's not what you were saying the other day," he sang, taunting her with a smirk.

"Oh fuck off about that! It was a bloody mistake. MISTAKE. Anyway, _you're_ the one who kissed _me_!"

"And you weren't complaining were you?"

Alicia fought the urge to shake him.

"Listen, Warrington, you understand that we're in seventh year, and that this project is going to effect _three_ of our bloody NEWT-level classes, don't you?"

Warrington sneered at her.

"I'm not thick, Spinnet. I'm just saying, this could work a lot better if we just... you know, gave into our instincts or however the hell you want to put it."

He was deranged. Absolutely deranged.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to screw you, Warrington. One day you kiss me, the next day you come insult my bloody team while we're holding tryouts -

"That's fair game! I never said I wanted to screw your team -

"I'm on the team!"

"And I still stand by what I said," he insisted, "You can have a lot more between your legs than a bloody broom -

Alicia raised her arm to slap him, but he caught her wrist before she could even move.

"Okay, I'll stop. Let's just get this done."

Alicia exhaled sharply.

"You're a fucking ass, you know that?"

"And I could be fucking your ass right now, if you weren't so bloody stubborn."

Alicia shut her eyes and massaged her temples, pretending that the idea didn't somewhat appeal to her on a minor, animalistic level.

* * *

For a second, Cassius almost felt bad. Almost. But he knew she didn't really have a headache, and persistence was the name of the game. She'd break eventually, and he knew that eventually would be soon. At first, he'd taken their forced partnership as a curse, but it'd dawned on him that it could be a possible blessing. If he was going to obsess over Spinnet anyhow, why not be within her proximity? And at least now he had an excuse to see her without arousing suspicion. This could actually work, if she got over herself for a second. One shag, and that'd be that. More, if it turned out that they were compatible, which, judging by her history - or rather lack thereof - would turn out not to be the case. Cassius preferred experienced girls. Spinnet, as far as he knew, had never been with anybody. She'd said she wasn't a virgin, and oddly enough, he believed her. But something told him that she wasn't any Charlene Cartel by any means. For now, though, he would have to let the issue drop. They did have work to do after all, and despite everything, Cassius wasn't the sort to let his whole life slide to hell over some silly obsession with a bint like Spinnet. Anyway, he could tell that she was running out of patience, and the last thing he wanted to do was have to waste a perfectly good opportunity to get at least some of the work out of the way.

After two hours of sitting with Spinnet, Cassius knew two things. First, Spinnet was a hair twirler. He hadn't expected it, but the facts were facts. She twirled her hair, and when she was particularly frustrated, she sometimes twirled hard enough that her finger came right up against her scalp, and then she'd have to let the entire length of her hair unravel. Second, Seventh Year was a bitch.

"The syntax is all bloody wrong," Spinnet snarled, jabbing the photograph of the first part of the text with her hand.

"It's not wrong," said Warrington for the umpteenth time, "It's got to be regionalism. I'm telling you, we need to get one of those fucking books from Bishop. There's a reason why Binns recommended _Unification and Regionalism of the XIVth Century._"

"Okay, fine, it's regionalism. That doesn't bloody explain why we don't understand any of the words!"

"Yes it does, don't be daft. Think about it this way. We speak English here, they Aussies speak English in Australia, and the Americans have their own English - sometimes the syntax is different, but usually it's the words. They mean the same thing, they're just different. It just takes a bit of time to understand."

Spinnet groaned.

"And that's why she said editions. She didn't say edition, she said editions."

She pulled out the other photographs and laid them out on the desk.

"I can't believe we fucking looked this over. They're all the same texts. Sort of... this first bit is all pretty much the same..."

"So either we're looking at the same texts, written in different times, or we're looking at the same texts written in the same time for family members in different regions."

"It's got to be times. Different generations, it has to be - most families stayed within the same area for centuries, even extended families, marrying people within the surrounding areas... which means they wouldn't have to be translating the text for different family members because different family members would all be in the same area, which means there wouldn't be any bloody need to translate because they'd all be speaking the same fucking language! For god's sake, this is the most ridiculous fucking project in the universe."

Cassius couldn't help but agree. With the ridiculous part. But he knew a thing or two about old wizarding families because he was from an old wizarding family.

"No, you're wrong. I mean, you're not wrong, but you're wrong that they didn't marry outside the area. A lot of them would have been marrying outside the region to consolidate power. Lot of French and English and Spanish were intermarrying at the time..."

"So what? You think this one here translates into French or Spanish or something? That's not bloody fair! I'm fucking English!"

Cassius smirked.

"Well I'm French."

Spinnet looked at him in surprise.

"My mum's French."

"... so? Is it French then?"

"I dunno. Maybe Ancient French, but I wasn't really looking at it like that, so I don't really know... and Ancient French isn't anything like Modern French, which means we'll have to do some more research -

"Which is what they want. Primary sources and secondary sources. If it's actually in another language, then we'll have to cross reference it with other texts in Ancient French runes or whatever, and then back it up with the secondary sources. This is fucking ridiculous."

Cassius stood up and stretched his arms, cracking his neck and back in the process. He sighed in relief. His entire upper body felt cramped and exhausted from two hours of bending over the stupid photographs of runic texts. Spinnet took the sign as meaning they were unofficially on a much needed break, and began to massage her left shoulder with her right hand. Cassius reached down and pushed her hand aside.

"What -

"Just enjoy it," he interrupted, rubbing her shoulders with a firm grip. "But you owe me," he added.

She didn't even retort, literally melting in his arms, letting out little sighs of contentment as he worked on her shoulders.

"Oh, that's nice - ouch! Not so hard - oh, there!"

Cassius rubbed her shoulders for a few more minutes, and she let out a sigh of displeasure when he finally removed his hands and slumped back down in his seat.

"My turn," he said.

"I don't want to do anything right now," Spinnet moaned as she stood, "That was bloody amazing."

"I better be saying the same thing when you're done," Cassius warned.

He let out a soft hiss when he felt her hands brush against the back of his neck, the tips of her fingers skimming his earlobes. Slowly, her hands worked out the little knots in his shoulders, one by one, until he felt like he'd died and woke up in heaven. It took him a second to realize that her hands had gone from his shoulders to his back, and he tensed for a second before relaxing under her gentle pressure.

"Fuck, Spinnet, that's it - just do that for a bit," he groaned, when she hit a sore spot that had bothered him since he'd been thumped by a bludger during last practice. "Not too hard, mind - hurts like a bitch..."

When she finished with him, she hopped onto the desk next to him, her bare legs dangling like a child's, hands crossed in her lap. Awkward silence filled the room.

"So I don't know about you," she said suddenly, avoiding his gaze, "but I really don't feel like doing anymore work right now."

"Agreed," said Cassius, still absolutely content from the little impromptu massage session. "And I'll get those books from Bishop, don't worry about that."

Spinnet hummed in happiness, and flashed him what had to be the first genuine smile he'd seen on her face directed at him, for him, in seven years.

"I guess there are some advantages to working with a big bad Slytherin," she said happily, before snorting and laughing at herself. "Merlin, I can't believe I just said that. Now _that_ was bloody tacky."

Cassius shrugged.

"The truth is the truth."

Spinnet scoffed and Cassius gave her a predatory grin.

"I can be very bad," he said softly, standing up so that he towered over her small, seated frame. Before she could cross her legs, he stepped in between them, pleased that she made no move to get away, though she was as stiff as a board. He could feel her thighs pressing against his own, though her legs hung limply over the edge of the desk. He leaned closer, so close that he could feel her heat, and hear her raspy breath. "And I'm sure you'll find that I can be just as big."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the reviews guys :) I really appreciate it. S/O to Sibel88 and Amretta! **

* * *

If, a week ago, somebody were to have asked Alicia on the train to school, who her potential conquests or pursuits for her final year at Hogwarts might include (were she actively seeking a pursuit, of course), Cassius Warrington - formerly just Warrington - would never have materialized on her hypothetical list. Yet here she was, sitting in a dusty abandoned classroom, with one lusty wizard cradled between her legs, and try as she might, she just couldn't bring herself to kick him where it mattered. In fact, she couldn't bring herself to move at all.

Ordinarily, had anybody said such a thing as Cassius had just said, Alicia might have laughed. Only, sitting here with her thighs dangling around his hips, she had a feeling that he'd been... well, not entirely untruthful in regards to a certain matter (if, of course, that was what he was implying).

His scent invaded her head, and she felt dizzy for it.

The moment stretched out, felt like an hour, only before Alicia could even blink in reaction to formulate a clever response, a loud screeching mewl interrupted her train of thought and both she and Cassius (_Cassius!_) flinched.

"Fuck," he hissed, "It's Mrs. Norris."

Of course it was Mrs. Norris. Any semi-intelligent first year learned to recognize _that_ sound by the end of first semester. Cassius checked his watch, and he frowned.

"Shit, we missed curfew."

Alicia stared at him blankly, still dumbfounded as to his continued presence between her legs.

"Spinnet," he said. "Earth to Spinnet! We have to get out of here before Filch comes -

"_Petrificus totalus_"

Cassius gaped at her.

"Don't just stand there!" Alicia whispered hastily, suddenly finding use of her vocal cords once again, as she lowered her wand.

"You -

Yes, she had. Mrs. Norris lay on her side, looking all but dead, at the doorway.

"Go get her! Quick, before Filch sees!"

Cassius raced over to Mrs. Norris and shut the door. Meanwhile, Alicia quickly packed away their belongings, shoving everything in sight into both their book bags, regardless of ownership.

"_Nox_," Cassius whispered as they heard Filch shout after Mrs. Norris.

"We're so screwed," Alicia murmured.

"What did you go and do that for?" Cassius muttered back.

"I dunno! I panicked!"

They crouched down silently in the dark, waiting for Filch to break down the door and haul them up to Professor Umbridge to have them expelled, but the moment never came.

"He must have gone the other way," Cassius mumbled. "It's now or never. He'll come back this way -

"Are you mad! He'll eat us alive!"

"He's a squib," Cassius replied scathingly.

Alicia rolled her eyes. She could practically picture his sneer despite the darkness.

"Okay, fine. And what do we do if he sees us?"

"We run like hell."

Guided by the light that seeped through from the crack under the door, they crawled forward, silently, Cassius holding their book bags, while Alicia held the petrified Mrs. Norris in one arm.

They pressed their ears against the door, but couldn't hear Filch's footsteps.

"Alright, let's go," Cassius muttered.

"What about Mrs. Norris?"

He groaned.

"I don't bloody know! You're the one who -

"Shit!"

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, but luckily, soon disappeared.

"Fuck Mrs. Norris," Cassius replied. "Here's the plan, we put a _silencio_ on her, unpetrify her, and then we run. Meet me in the library tomorrow morning and we can sort out our stuff then. If either of us gets caught, then, well too bad."

"That's your plan?"

"You have anything better?"

Alicia hesitated for a moment.

"Fine," she mumbled. "I'll meet you at - at my desk, right before breakfast."

"Your desk?" said Cassius, with only a hint of amusement in his voice.

Alicia didn't bother to grace him with a response.

They creeped out of the classroom, and as soon as it was evident that the coast was clear, they made a break for the closest set of stairs, hoping that they wouldn't come across Filch.

They didn't come across Filch.

Instead, they came across Snape.

Alicia mentally thanked Cassius for having been smart enough to cast a padding charm on their shoes, because had it not been for that, Snape would have more than certainly turned around. They rushed back in the direction of the abandoned classroom, but suddenly, they heard a voice growl from a distance, "Mrs. Norris!", and they knew they were trapped between a rock and a hard place. If Filch came any closer, they would not only be caught, Snape would certainly hear Filch's voice and turn around.

"Unbelievable," Cassius muttered. "_Silencio_," he hissed, pointing the wand at Mrs. Norris. He unpetrified her, and the cat shot off in Filch's direction.

"What'd you do that for?" Alicia hissed.

"So he doesn't come any fucking closer! Come on, we have to make it to the stairs."

He shoved her, forcing her to scurry forward, when suddenly a miniature door across the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy caught her eye. Alicia pointed at it, but Cassius shook his head furiously, mouthing _too small_. Snape had turned the corner, but suddenly, Filch shouted, "Mrs. Norris!" and they both leaped for the door.

Alicia yanked it open and crawled in, and Cassius quickly followed suit.

They slammed the door shut, locked it, and breathed out a sigh of relief.

The room, if one could even call it that, was dark, narrow and cramped. Cassius leaned his back against the door, slouching down upon realizing that his head grazed the ceiling when he tried to sit up.

"_Lumos_."

Cassius flinched at the sudden source of light.

"It's a passage," Alicia muttered, pointing her wand out ahead of her.

"Can you see the end?" Cassius asked, for all he could see was Alicia's very fine backside.

"No," she replied, "but we better take it anyway... I bet you any money Filch and Snape are still out there... I wonder where the door came from? I swear, it wasn't there earlier..."

"It wasn't," said Cassius. "And if it was, they would have come in here by now. Go on, then, my legs are going to fall asleep!"

"Alright, alright!"

Alicia crawled forward, but stopped after a second.

"What now?"

"Cushioning charms. Some of us aren't wearing pants," she said snidely.

"I can see that," said Cassius, smirking slightly.

"Oh fuck off, you can't be serious."

"But lace suits you so well!"

Alicia kicked out, but the padding charm they'd cast earlier on their shoes protected him from the impact. He laughed as he cast a cushioning charm on himself.

They crawled forward at what felt a snail's pace. Much to Alicia's dismay, the passage was too small for her to switch places with Cassius, short of having him crawl over her, so she dealt with the embarrassment by kicking out at him every few feet to keep him at a safe distance. Eventually, they came to a fork.

"Four passages," she said. "Which way should we go?"

Cassius took advantage of the space to shuffle next to Alicia, and they both sat up, grateful that there was enough room to sit up properly instead of having to be on all fours.

"I know," said Cassius suddenly. "_Nox_." He placed his wand on the palm of his hand. "_Point me_."

The wand shifted and pointed towards the second passage from the left.

"You go in front of me this time," said Alicia, pushing him slightly.

"Why, afraid I'll take advantage of you?"

Alicia rolled her eyes.

"Just go."

"In a minute, merlin, what's your hurry? My back's killing me. I don't suppose you'll give me another massage."

Alicia swatted him on the arm.

"That's probably why we missed curfew in the first place!"

Cassius shrugged.

"Can't say I regret it... should have a bloody masseuse in this school, what with all the books we have to lug around all day!"

"Well why not a masseur?"

"As though I'd want some great hulking oaf rubbing my back!"

Alicia snickered.

"What, scared of a little intimacy are we?"

"Oh fuck off. Anyway, _I'm_ not the one who's scared of intimacy."

"Not this again... you realize I'm a Gryffindor. And you're a Slytherin."

"So? We're already stuck on this damned project... why shouldn't we get some fun out of it?"

Alicia groaned and dropped her head into her palms.

"Because," she mumbled through her fingers, "it wouldn't be fun. Think about it. First of all, we play quidditch. On opposing teams. Angie and Montague would eat us alive if they ever found out. I mean... fine. You're not... a terrible person -

"Gee, thanks -

" - oh, you know what I mean... you're not like - like Malfoy... not to mention, I'm sure if your family ever found out, they'd probably -

"Yeah, okay, you think I haven't thought this through? Merlin, Spinnet, throw me a bone here... You think I like liking you?"

"... you like me?"

He put on a falsetto voice. "You're not... a terrible person..."

Alicia laughed despite herself.

"Fine, I deserved that one."

"I'm not an idiot, Spinnet, and despite what you may think, I'm not a bloody bastard. All this Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry, it's not all black and white. Anyway, the school houses, that stuff is just Hogwarts. This... blood situation... it isn't just England, it's everywhere. Besides, you think there aren't Gryffindors who think that half bloods and -

"Don't even say it."

"I wasn't going to. Half bloods and muggle borns. You think it's just Slytherins who think about it? Look at Augustus Rookwood, he was a Gryffindor, Sirius Black - Gryffindor. And there are Slytherins too, who aren't all about it either. Half of us are hypocrites anyhow... Shit, look at Theodore Nott, his mother was a half-blood!"

"... So what are you trying to say?"

"Nothing! I dunno. Nothing. I'm just saying, we can bloody have an affair or whatever you want to call it and it won't be the end of the world. Just because you're not a pureblood - oh don't look at me like that - just because you're some Gryffindor halfblood or whatever you are, and I'm some snot nosed pureblood fanatic Slytherin doesn't mean we can't shag on the side. That was self-deprecating humour, by the way."

Alicia snorted.

"Real romantic, Warrington -

"Never said I was."

"Yeah, well... always nice for a girl to pretend."

"Well don't. This is messy enough as it is."

"What's _this_? As far as I was aware, we're just two people working on a project - "

"Don't be thick. Obviously it would be less complicated if you were... say, a Ravenclaw, or better yet, a Slytherin -

Alicia laughed.

"Well _maybe_ I'd think about it if you were... say, a Hufflepuff, or better yet, a Gryffindor," she said sarcastically.

Cassius looked at her, scandalized.

"A Hufflepuff? Well if that's your sort, then -

"I was joking," she said, smiling despite her better intentions. "Anyway, for all I know you could be the worst lay of my life -

"You wanna bet on that?" Cassius murmured, casting her a dark gaze.

Alicia swallowed.

"No. Not particularly... and - and how awkward would that be? If - if it sucked, I mean. Then we'd have to work together on this stupid project for the rest of the term, and - well. Yeah. I mean, there's a reason why I don't hook up with Hogwarts boys - rule of thumb, Warrington; don't shit where you eat."

"I guarantee," Cassius yawned, "that it wouldn't suck. I mean, I won't suck. You might, but -

Alicia whacked him on the arm.

"Watch it, I might hex you."

"I'm surprised you haven't already."

"Yeah, well... I'm tired. And it's terrible in here. Why are we still here by the way?"

"I dunno. Fuck it. Let's get out of here. I'm exhausted. But this isn't over."

Alicia groaned. "I just remembered I've practice in the morning."

Cassius scowled. "Same. Montague's got us running and swimming every damn morning."

"Swimming? He's mad! It's freezing out there!"

"_We're wizards, suck it up_!" said Cassius, mocking Montague's captain-voice.

They crawled silently down the tunnel, this time, Alicia at Cassius' heels. Exhaustion had suddenly set in, and neither of them could muster the strength to talk.

"We're going downhill," Cassius said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Alicia swore under her breath.

"What?"

"Gryffindor common room is in a bloody tower," she mumbled, yawning.

"Sucks to be you. We must be headed for the dungeons, it's getting colder."

"And damper," said Alicia, scowling. They continued to crawl in silence.

"There's something up ahead," said Cassius, a while later. "I think... I think it's a mirror. Yeah, it is -

He crawled forward a little quicker, and Alicia followed him. She peered over his shoulder and groaned.

"We're filthy," she said, examining their reflections. Their faces, which was all she could really see, were covered in grime. She could only imagine what the rest of them looked like.

"Yeah, well, we've been crawling around here for like an hour."

"That's it?"

Cassius tapped his watch.

"That's it."

"... and how the hell do we get out of here?"

"Maybe it's a door."

Cassius reached out to the edge of the mirror and tried to pull, but it was firmly anchored into the walls of the passage.

"Touch it," said Alicia. "Maybe - oh, it's like a portal!" Cassius' hand had disappeared beyond the seemingly glass surface of the mirror. "Look outside, see if there's anybody -

He was way ahead of her. He pulled his head back and gave it a shake.

"Dungeons," he said, sounding pleased. "Well, I'm home."

Alicia scowled.

"Well fuck. Now what do I do?"

"Gryffindor far from here?"

"Other end of the castle. Told you, we're in a bloody tower."

Cassius shrugged.

"Well... maybe you won't get caught?"

Alicia snorted. "I think it's awfully coincidental that this tunnel brought you straight to the Slytherin common room. There were four tunnels. One of them must have led to Gryffindor. I've the worst luck, I swear."

"You gonna go back?"

"Well what else am I going to do? God, Angie's going to kill me. Sneaking around was never this hard..."

"... well," said Cassius, grinning slightly, "If you want - you can crash with me."

"Are you mad?" she spluttered. "And if somebody were to see me?"

Cassius shrugged. "I'll check. Anyway, we've all got curtains."

"So? What if somebody happens to take a peek -

Cassius rolled his eyes. "We've girls over all the time... if we feel like being exhibitionists, the curtains stay open."

Alicia choked and Cassius laughed softly.

"C'mon, Spinnet, I promise I don't bite. Much."

"No, it's alright. I think I'll just head back..."

Cassius shrugged. "Suit yourself..." He stuck his head out of the mirror once again to check if the coast was clear. "Well," he said, glancing at her over his shoulder, "I'm outta here."

He crawled out quickly without saying another word, leaving Alicia alone in the dark, with nothing save the light from the tip of her wand to keep her company.

"Shit," she mumbled to herself, "Wait!"

Alicia crawled out after him, silently praying that nobody else would be on the other side.

Cassius looked down, alarmed, when something crashed into this calves.

"Spinnet!" he hissed. "What the fuck?"

He looked around quickly. Huh. The mirror was no longer there.

"Take off your tie," he whispered. "And put on my robes."

Alicia did as she was told, and her heart beat so hard she was convinced that she was going to go into cardiac arrest. She shoved her tie into her book bag and pulled out his robes. The hem dragged on the floor like a wedding dress.

"Put on the hood," he murmured. "I'm going to see if there's anyone in the common room. Stay behind me and keep your head down. A lot of the girls from other houses don't like to be seen if they're coming in for a shag, so as long as nobody sees who you are, you should be good."

Cassius dragged her down the corridor about four feet, and they came to a stop in front of a stone wall with nothing to distinguish it but a single torch.

"_Boomslang_," he whispered. The stones rearranged themselves, reminding Alicia of the entrance to Diagon Alley from muggle London at the Leaky Cauldron. A passage appeared, the walls flanked by silver lanterns that let out a ghostly glow.

"Come on," said Cassius, dragging her in by the hand. "Okay, you stay here for a second."

He sauntered down the short corridor, glanced around the corner and looked back, nodding his head. Alicia scurried after him, remembering to keep her head down. She walked so close behind Cassius that her face was practically glued to his back. She nearly fainted when laughter echoed through the Slytherin common room. She felt Cassius tense for a moment.

"Who's that, then, Cassius?" said a girl's voice. Cassius pushed Alicia towards the little flight of stairs ahead of them, obscuring her from view.

"None of your business," she heard Cassius say from the common room.

"Well it isn't Cartel again," said another girl in a haughty voice. "No shame, that slag."

"Who is it, then? A Puff, I imagine, if she's got her hood up. You boys disgust me, ought to stick to your own house -

The three exchanged sarcastic banter for a few more minutes before the girls' voices faded off, and finally seemed to disappear. Soon after, Cassius quickly came down the stairs.

"That was close," he mumbled, yawning widely. "Alright, turn around a second so I can see if any of the blokes are up."

Alicia heard the door at the bottom of the stairs open, and then Cassius tapped her on the back. She followed him into the dorm, heart still beating wildly, and let out a quiet sigh of relief.

She looked around. The dorm was rectangular, unlike her own circular dorm back in Gryffindor tower. There were windows next to every bed, although she noticed with shock that they didn't look down onto the grounds, but rather into - well, what she strongly suspected was the Great Lake. She hadn't properly looked around the Slytherin common room, having been surgically attached to the back of Cassius' robes, but suddenly she realized that they were indeed under the Great Lake. Strange fish with bulging, glowing pink eyes darted past the windows. Besides this, however, the dorm was essentially identical to her own. Instead of a red motif, everything was quite green, but she noticed with some pleasure that they had the same four-poster beds with the same trunks, and the same little night tables with pitchers of water and a little glass. No special treatment here. She was grateful that all the curtains were drawn, except for one bed which was empty at the end of the room, curtains pulled open, which she assumed belonged to Cassius.

He silently motioned for her to follow him and pointed to a little door off to the side next to his bed, mouthing 'bathroom'. She nodded but stood silently, awkwardly glancing around, her hood still pulled up over he head in case anybody decided to get up for a drink or to use the toilet. Cassius quietly opened his trunk and disrobed, much to Alicia's embarrassment. Disregarding her presence entirely, he stripped down until he was clothed in nothing but a pair of army green boxer-briefs, and disappeared into the bathroom. Alicia followed him before he could shut the door.

"Can I help you?" he snickered softly.

Alicia looked him in the face, trying not to get an eyeful of the rest of his body.

"I - er, you don't have pyjamas, do you?"

"Nope," he said, reaching for a toothbrush in the cabinet above one of the two sinks, "Can't say girls normally come over looking to have a slumber party."

Alicia flushed.

"Well... well do you have an extra shirt or something? Anything?"

Cassius shrugged, unable to respond as he'd begun brushing his teeth. He passed her his tooth brush when he was done. Alicia cringed. "_Scourgify_."

She brushed her teeth, trying to take in the bizarreness of the entire situation. Here she was, brushing her teeth using _Warrington's toothbrush _in his _dormitory_ while he watched her through the mirror, as though nothing was out of the ordinary. When she was done, he poked his head out the bathroom door to make sure everyone was still asleep. Seeing that they were, he glanced back, and nodded at her. She followed him into the dorm, and he motioned for her to sit on the bed. It was going to be proof of his patience if he went the entire night - or what was left of it - without jumping her. He could hardly absorb the fact that a week ago, she hadn't even known his name, and now she was sitting on his bed in her little uniform, looking at him expectantly, hoping no doubt that he could magically procure a set of conservative pyjamas for her to wear.

He rummaged about his trunk, and then tossed her an old Falmouth Falcon's shirt he'd had since second year. She accepted it with a big smile. Cassius watched as she hopped onto his bed, and then she shut the curtains. He heard her shuffling about from behind the curtains, as he put away his own belongings. He thought about everything from his grandmother to Umbridge's perfectly parted hair to keep from being turned on by the sight of her clothing dropping onto the floor next to his bed, one by one. First a sock, then another, then her skirt - Fuck. He stumbled into the bathroom, and splashed cool water on to his face. Fucking Spinnet. This was absurd. How did he ever think this was going to work out? He didn't. Of course he didn't, because he hadn't thought of anything. The possibility of scoring with Spinnet tonight was meagre at best. If he'd invited Spinnet over to crash with him, it was out of pure, pathetic desperation. He took a piss and washed his hands, taking a deep breath before entering the dorm. The curtains to the bed were open again, and Spinnet was bent over his trunk, neatly folding her school blouse and tucking away her book bag. He could see the white lace trim of her panties poking out from under the too-short Falcon's shirt. Stupid girl hadn't even tried enlarging the shirt. Well, he wasn't going to volunteer to do it.

She turned around and looked at him over her shoulder, looking like the perfect picture of innocent and sexy, her little tongue flicking out to lick her dry lips. Her hair had been a mess when he'd gone into the bathroom, but now it was smooth and sleek, and fell past her shoulders, swishing around as she turned back to close the trunk. Cassius quickly slipped under the covers of his bed and set the alarm on his watch before placing it on his bedside table. Alicia crawled in next to him, hesitantly, before shutting the curtains on her side of the bed. Cassius did the same, and they lay silently in the dark, listening to the others sleeping, trying not to touch each other in the small bed.

Cassius groaned and rolled onto this stomach, suddenly missing his bed at home. Alicia shifted next to him, and he felt her cold toes accidentally graze his calf. She quickly yanked her foot away. She rolled onto her side so that her back was to him, and tried to fall asleep. Cassius shifted again, and he heard her breath hitch in surprise, feeling him brush up against her backside.

Fuck, she was a warm little thing, all curves and heat. Cassius wrinkled his nose, catching a facefull of her hair in his mouth, and gently pushed it aside. He heard her let out a little gasp at his touch, and she rolled over, so that he could feel her warm breath against him. She looked at him, so close that their noses were practically touching, her eyes half shut in exhaustion. He kissed her then, unable to help himself, and he felt her immediately sink against him. He pulled back suddenly, and they looked at each other silently in the dark. Suddenly, she kissed him back, and Cassius reached out to take her by the hips, sliding her over top of him so that she came to a rest in his lap. He sat up and slid his hands down over her t-shirt covered sides, until he felt the lace of her panties, and then the smoothness of her naked thighs. She bucked against him, surprised by his touch, and Cassius felt her legs wrap around his waist. He groaned softly into her mouth, and tugged gently at her hair, causing her to grind against him, letting out a little sigh of pleasure. He pushed her down onto her back after a few moments, kissed her, then looked down at her. She stared at him silently, and then tugged him down for another kiss.

Eventually, they ended up lying on their sides, looking at each other without saying a word.

"I - I'll think about it," she said softly in a shaky voice.

Normally, Cassius might have voiced an argument or two - what was there to think about? Hell, he wouldn't have been against sliding into her right this second, were she to have invited him to do so - but something told him that Alicia wasn't like the other girls, and not only because she was a Gryffindor, and a chaser to boot. Quite frankly, the knowledge scared him. This little thing he had about her wasn't some stupid obsession like he'd originally suspected. He had a horrible feeling that he actually fancied her. It wouldn't do at all. But he knew he had to have her now. What was he supposed to do? Forget all about her, while she was squirming against him, lying in his arms?

It would be an affair, purely physical, or nothing. And he didn't like the second option. He would have to keep his head straight, is all. Which was fine. He'd been doing it his entire life. Alicia Spinnet would be another blip in the line. He'd get over it. She said she'd think about it, which meant it was going to happen. If it was good, they'd keep it up. Then, they would graduate, he'd get married, she'd get married or not, and that would be the end of it. Or maybe... Maybe he could keep her around as a mistress. He thought about it, and the more he thought about it, the more excited he became. He would have his house, she would have her house - or she could even have the Berkley House, named after a long-deceased Warrington mistress... Then he frowned. No. Was he mad? Of course he was. They hadn't shagged once and he was already thinking about putting her up as his mistress. And as if she would even agree to such a thing! He felt her turn around so that her back was pressed against him once more, and again, he pushed her lovely hair out of his face before sliding his arm around her waist. She stiffened for a second, but then relaxed against him with a soft sigh. He hated how she fit perfectly against him, and he hated how quietly she fell asleep in his arms, while he stayed awake, arguing with himself, before finally falling into a restless, dreamless sleep.

The next morning, they awoke to the sound of Cassius' alarm, and the sounds of the other boys cursing and grumbling loudly as Montague urged them to get dressed. Alicia sleepily opened her eyes and for a second, forgot where she was, until she felt Cassius shift against her, his hard body a contrast to her own soft one. She felt shamefully at home against him. He was warm and smelled of - of everything good. She froze, suddenly feeling something stiff poking her in the back, and quickly, she rolled over. Cassius blinked and looked at her curiously before a flash of recognition crossed his face. He bolted up when he heard Montague bark his name.

"Fuck," Alicia mumbled, face burning in embarassment. "What time is it?"

"Six," Cassius replied, reaching for his watch, being careful not to let the curtains slide open.

"Urgh, I've practice. How am I supposed to get out of here?"

"Cass, merlin, what the fuck are you doing in there, having a wank? Let's go! Move it!"

Jesus, Alicia thought, he's more militant than Angie! She swore silently never to curse her friend and captain again. Montague was absolutely insane.

"He's got a bird in there, I'm telling you," said somebody else.

"Fuck off Ade," Cassius yawned loudly.

"Ah, told you!"

"I don't care if you've got the Harpies starting line-up in there! Tell her to get out and get your ass to the Lake. We're leaving now. If you aren't in the locker room in ten, I'll make everybody do a hundred sit-ups."

"_That_'s your friend?" Alicia whispered in horror.

Cassius scowled, and stretched his back until he felt a crack. Alicia swallowed uncomfortably.

"Like what you see?" he said, smirking. He pulled Alicia onto his lap, and her face became a shade of puce when she felt him between her legs. He slid his hands down to her ankles and gently ran the tips of his fingers up her calves. She shuddered against him. Like hell she wasn't a virgin, he thought to himself. She was about as sensitive as one. He slid his hands up to her knees, and she was all but fucking him by the time he grabbed her hips.

"I'm going to fuck you right now if you keep that up," he growled, digging his fingers into her hips.

"That's what you said last week," she replied breathlessly.

He bumped up against her, and she let out a hiss.

"You think I won't follow through?"

"N-no - we have to leave," she said.

Cassius gripped her even harder, knowing that she was speaking the truth.

"I bet you're fucking wet, Spinnet," he murmured. "I bet if I wanted to, I could bend you over right now and just slide right in -

"I have to leave," she gasped, clutching his shoulders. "And so do you. If Montague comes back -

Cassius swore. _If Montague came back._ Fucking prick. His best friend was a lunatic. The others would kill him if Montague made them do the extra sit-ups, which he would. Over Spinnet. He clenched his teeth.

"Get dressed," he said brusquely, letting his hands fall to his sides. "Stay here for a sec, I'll pass you your things. I'm going to go check out the common room to see if there's anyone around."

Cassius slipped out of the bed, making sure to keep the drapes pulled tight in case any of the other boys woke up. It'd been madness, offering Spinnet a stay in his bed like the Slytherin dorm was some sort of bed and breakfast. Had his brains not been so addled by adrenaline and exhaustion... He looked down at himself. Half-mast... Was that a wet spot? Fucking hell. He was in fucking hell.

Alicia agreed wholeheartedly with this sentiment. Indeed, she was in fucking hell. She could hear the loud snores from whoever was left in the boys' dorm - Terrence Higgs, no doubt, who used to play seeker before Malfoy had usurped him, and most likely Alec Roy, who Alicia had considered to be the most decent Slytherin boy in her year because he'd once held a door open for her before realizing who she was. She was sorry to admit that Cassius had taken his place.

He slipped her belongings to her through the drapes, and then she heard his footsteps echo away. Quickly, she through on her clothing so that when he came back, they could leave right away. Had ten minutes already passed? Undoubtedly. She could picture Montague barking at his team like the dictator he was, demanding punishment for Cassius' tardiness. And she'd thought that Angie was nutters... She almost felt bad for the Slytherin team. Almost.

Alicia heard the door creak open again, and then Cassius' face appeared through the drapes. His expression was grim.

"A couple of third years are up," he said, frowning slightly, "trying to finish off a paper or something."

He disappeared for a moment before she could reply, and she heard him rummaging about his trunk. He stuck his head in through the drapes again.

"Here, put these on so nobody sees you," he said, passing her a Slytherin scarf and a pair of aviator sunglasses. Alicia blinked.

"You're kidding - I can't wear this! It's sacrilege!"

"You've already slept in the snake's den, baby," said Cassius darkly, "So put on the fucking glasses and the scarf or you'll be here til - well, who knows."

Alicia scowled at him, ignoring his little term of endearment, but she took the scarf and the glasses anyway. Of course, he was right. Stupid Warrington. She'd forgotten that he was a prick, ninety-five percent of the time.

"I look stupid," said, pulling up the hood of Warrington's robes so that her entire face was obscured.

"At least you're not advertising that you're a Gryff," he said quietly, leading her out of the dorm.

Alicia felt her heard pound against her chest as Cassius led her up the stairs to the common room. She could hear two boys arguing, the third years Cassius had mentioned, judging by the cracking voices. She would have laughed had she not been so anxious. They fell silent as she and Cassius came into view, but Alicia could see their smirks. Smarmy little bastards, even in third year.

They burst out laughing as soon as Alicia's back was to them, and Cassius barked, "Shut it, you brats!" She smiled inwardly.

Finally, they managed to leave the common room, and Alicia let out a sigh of relief when the bricks at the end of the little corridor revealed the main hallway outside. Cassius stepped out first to make sure nobody was about, then signalled Alicia to follow him.

Quickly, she pulled off Cassius' robes, scarf and sunglasses, and passed them to him. He put everything on, and started jogging down the corridor without saying another word. Alicia ran after him, clutching her book bag, because it occurred to her that she didn't really know where in the dungeons she was.

"Quit following me!" Cassius hissed when she caught up to him.

"We're headed in the same bloody direction!"

"Don't be daft, Spinnet - you don't think it looks a little odd that _you're_ following _me_?"

"This is so messed up," she said in frustration, because for the life of her, she couldn't remember what 'normal' interaction between her and Warrington actually looked like. Oh, right. Because there wasn't any such thing as interaction between them in the past. She couldn't remember ever duelling him, because they never had. He'd always kept a slightly lower profile than say, Montague or Bletchley. She glanced sideways at him and he raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing. Don't you think this is messed up?"

Cassius scowled.

"Yes, Spinnet, I think this is messed up, but maybe we should save that conversation for some other time."

They stopped and waited for the moving staircase to shift to the desired landing before breaking into a jog once more.

Now that they were in the main part of the castle, sleepy students started appearing, either on their way to the library to catch up on work due for the day, or to grab an early breakfast in the Great Hall.

Alicia's stomach growled painfully, telling her that she was later than she'd thought.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"I don't want to know. Supposed to be in the locker room for a ten-past six."

Alicia winced, but mercifully, they passed the Great Hall and students were milling about outside the doors, which meant breakfast had yet to be served. She scrambled to keep up with Cassius' long strides, and soon enough, they were in the corridor that led to all the locker rooms. Cassius disappeared into the Slytherin locker room without a word.

Alicia changed in silence, very aware that everybody else was most certainly already out on the pitch, and that Angie was going to break her neck when she finally made her appearance. Still... she could hear Montague's bark in the back of her mind, and she knew that Cassius had it worse.

This was the truth. By the time Alicia made it onto the pitch, and Angelina had started her sarcastic captain's speech about tardiness, Cassius had still not made it to the Great Lake. While he might have flown to the Lake to get there faster, then he would have been forced to run around with his broom for fear of having it stolen if he were to leave it lying around, and so he had to jog.

When Cassius finally made it to the lake, Montague was already counting loudly the number of sit ups that the rest of the the team had managed.

"Oh, good, nice to see you're alive," he said sarcastically, when Cassius came into view. Cassius yawned and shrugged.

"Sorry, mate -

"Did you hear that? Warrington says he's sorry. While he was off getting his jollies with some sexy bint, here you lot were, right on time, waiting for his ass! Oi, Bletchley, you think I didn't see that? Do I look like an idiot to you? An extra twenty for you just for that. Count with me, Cassius. Let's see, sixty-six, I think."

The rest of the the team groaned. They'd been at sixty-six when Cassius had arrived. It had to be at least seventy-two by now.

"Sixty-seven - I don't hear you, mate. Don't make me rewind -

"Sixty-eight," said Cassius resignedly. Fucking Montague. Bloody sadist. If he was good at anything, it was playing people against each other in the right ways. A proper chess master (which he was, both literally and figuratively). It made him a good captain, and a bloody pain in the ass.

"Sixty-nine."

"... ninety-nine."

"One hundred. Bletchley, don't stop or I'll make everybody join you."

The others writhed on the floor, gasping for breath, while Cassius and Montague continued counting. By sheer luck, or out of fear, Bletchley made it to the golden one-hundred and twenty, before collapsing onto this back, gasping like he was about to have a heart attack.

"Well, normally since we went for a swim yesterday, we should technically only be running today, but since we're already behind, why don't we just do both."

The team was too out of breath to protest, and Cassius didn't bother saying a word because it wouldn't do any good. Everybody had been in his position at least once before when Flint was still captain any how, Montague included. Certainly, a few of them would be in his position within the following weeks to come. While it wasn't like anybody tried to be late on purpose, waking up at the crack of dawn was quite simply exhausting. The extra sit-ups, while a pain in the ass, were not unfamiliar. Swimming in the lake, though, was a particular cruelty Montague had come up with. Flint had never been fond of the Giant Squid.

Because none of them had been prepared to swim that morning, they had to transfigure their underwear into bathing suits. Cassius choked back a laugh of disgust when Pucey, who'd never been fantastic at transfiguration, ended up in a set of satin panties that left nothing to the imagination. Montague glared at the unfortunate soul in disgust, but eventually, they were all ready to go. Higgs, who was the best at charms, quickly cast heating charms to avoid causing further delays, and soon, they were wading into the Lake, feverishly hoping that the Squid wasn't in one of its moods today.

Breakfast was a silent affair, for which Cassius was grateful. The team wolfed down as much food as possible without taking a breath, for they'd arrived later than usual, and classes began at nine. He knew that later on, he was in for a questioning, because Montague had made them all swear that there wouldn't be any... sleepovers until the Gryffindor-Slytherin match. Furthermore, Cassius rarely let girls stay the night. Spinnet's impromptu visit was going to cause more chaos than it already had, all of which he should have anticipated, had he been thinking with his head instead of his dick.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks again for the reviews :) Let me know if you have any critiques by the way, because I'm all about improvement. **

* * *

"Hogsmeade notice is up," said Katie breathlessly as she slid into a seat across from Alicia, who was busy piling slices of steak onto a slice of bread.

"Oh, when is it?"

"Two weeks. No, wait, three weeks? Urgh, I can't count. The 30th, last Saturday of the month."

"Wicked," Alicia and Angelina chimed.

"Oh, shit, which reminds me, mum told me that we should book our Gladrags appointment as soon as possible. She's sent me a catalogue of whatever's left, but apparently we're a little behind... threatened to send a howler if I'm not booked by tomorrow."

Alicia and Angelina peered at the magazine. Indeed, half the colour images were either already black and white, signalling the fact that they were reserved, and one was even in the process of going black and white.

"Damn, mum sent me my catalogue with me before we got on the train," said Angelina. "I knew I forgot to do something."

"They're all bloody hideous!" Alicia exclaimed. "Look at this, it's a turtleneck! Who in their right mind wears a turtleneck dress?"

Katie pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill.

"Start picking, ladies - hopefully we aren't shit out of luck."

"That one looks alright," said Angelina, after they flipped through the magazine a second time. "Katie, this one's perfect." She pointed to an image of a brunette with a pointed nose in a strapless chiffon empire-waist dress. "She even kinda looks like you."

"Oh, and the bodice is really nice," said Alicia.

Katie nodded in agreement. "I might even look like I've got tits for once!"

The girls giggled, and Katie quickly copied down the reference number.

"Gloves, don't forget the gloves!" said Angelina.

"Urgh, look at this one - so slutty."

"Heehee, already reserved. Wonder by who?"

"Forget that, hurry up - I overheard a couple Ravenclaws panicking on my way down... I think a lot of people forgot until the Hogsmeade notice went up."

"Oh, this one's mad sexy," said Angelina, circling a backless dress with a long hemline that could only be pulled off by a towering amazon. "Write it down, I'm all for it. 33986B. And this one for Alicia, what do you think?" Alicia glanced it over. The model in the picture turned, showing off all the angles of the dress.

"Yeah, definitely. I like the lace-up back. Uh, where's then number - oh, 33987... wait, where are the prices?"

"Forget about the price, send it! Anyway, I thought your grandparents are covering it -

"Yeah, but -

"No buts," said Katie. "Otherwise you'll be wearing that hideous turtleneck thing! I'm gonna go send this before it's too late. I'll catch up with you guys back in the common room."

They watched as Katie sprinted away, clutching the piece of parchment like it was her life.

"Gladrags is going to make a fortune," said Alicia.

"Same shit every year. Remember when I had to go in third year for my sister's?"

Alicia giggled, remembering how Angelina had ranted and raved for a week about having to waste her first Hogsmeade trip ever on a trip to Gladrags, just to get fitted for her sister's coming-out. Alicia and Katie had stood at the window making faces while stuffing their faces with Honeydukes goodies, while Angelina stood in the jam-packed Gladrags with mostly sixth and seventh years and the handful of other unfortunate younger siblings in her position, picking out gloves and jewellery while waiting to get fitted.

"I am _not_ looking forward to this."

"Oh get off it. Anyway, who are you going with? Mum's signed me on with some bloke from Durmstrang who's father is an unspeakable in Germany."

"How do you know he's a prick? Was he here last year?"

"Actually, yeah, he was... remember that dirty-blonde who used to hang out with Victor Krum?"

"Oh... Yeah, kind of. He was alright. Scruffy, but pretty cute."

Angelina snorted.

"Yeah, I guess. I'd still prefer it if Fred could come... who are you going with anyway?"

"Nobody."

"Don't be ridiculous, of course you have to go with somebody."

Alicia's mind unconsciously summoned a picture of Warrington in dress robes. She suddenly remembered seeing him at the Yule Ball last year with a girl from Beauxbatons, and she frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said. "Just thinking. Urgh, I really don't want to go to this thing. Gran didn't really say I had to go with anybody -

"She'll rip you apart if you don't," said Angelina gravely. Alicia winced at the truthfulness behind the statement.

"Well - I dunno. It's not like anybody even knows I'm coming." Alicia hadn't attended the etiquette classes with the rest of the debutante girls, partly because she'd insisted on going back to London for the remainder of the summer, partly because she imagined her grandparents wanted to stave off the shock of her existence until as late as possible.

"I think they'll know soon enough... all the invites and whatnot are going out in a couple weeks. Anyway, it won't be that bad, I don't think... I mean, think about all the great witches and wizards who were - er -

"Bastards?" Alicia supplied helpfully. "Name one who survived a _deb_ ball. Give me Grindelwald any day. Oh, look, they must have got the letter - our dresses are greying out."

"Nice. Okay, that's one less thing to worry about. And there's Katie. We need to find you a date."

"Well what about Katie?"

"What about me?"

"We need to find Alicia a date. And Katie doesn't need a date because she's not coming out this year."

Alicia looked at Katie suspiciously.

"And why exactly are you going then?"

Katie shrugged. "Mum and dad are very important people," she said sarcastically. "And actually, one of my cousins from WADA is coming out."

Angelina grimaced.

"Hate theatre kids. I have a cousin at WADA too, and every time she comes over it's drama. No pun intended. Anyway, Alicia, stop trying to change the subject. Katie. Society pages."

Katie obediently handed over a copy of _Witch Weekly_ and Angelina flipped to the back of the magazine.

"Here's all the families in the Circle Society this season."

"I think she should just go with her secret boyfriend," Katie giggled.

Alicia rolled her eyes. If only. The world would stop spinning if she and Cassius - she stopped herself from finishing that thought. Warrington was _not_ her secret boyfriend. Angelina and Katie had pestered her for the last three days about it, and today when she'd seen him in Arithmancy, he'd once again gone back to pretending that she didn't exist. Which was fine with her, because she'd spent the past three days pretending that nothing had happened. God, was a pattern beginning to emerge?

She glanced at the list, mentally crossing out names as she went along. The Circle Society comprised of families in England and on the Continent with money and status, preferably both, and all would be making an appearance at the debutante ball if they had sons or daughters coming out this year, if not at the many other winter balls, one for every night of the entire winter holidays.

"I haven't looked at these in awhile... looks like the Tivolis are out this season," Angelina commented.

"You didn't hear? They're bankrupt - lost a fortune in speculation or some other mumbo-jumbo. I don't understand half the things my dad says sometimes... but I think Ludo Tivoli just got signed with Ballycastle so I'd give them a few months... Hang on, I think I've got a copy of this week's Quidditch Quarterly."

Alicia sighed. As soon as word got out about who her mother was, the Dewitts would probably be dropped from the society pages as quickly as the Tivolis, and she certainly wasn't going to be signed with Ballycastle anytime soon.

* * *

"Thought I'd find you here. I want to get that weekly report out of the way."

Alicia looked up from her Astronomy notes and pushed her hair out of the way. Cassius stared down at her, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, arms crossed, looking slightly annoyed.

"I'll set an alarm this time," he added, noticing the wary expression on her face. "I don't want detention anymore than you do."

She sighed, and shrugged. "Alright, give me a second. Did you get those books from Bishop by the way?"

Cassius smirked. He'd done one better - he'd sent a note off to his father on Tuesday evening, and a stack of books had arrived, shrunken into an envelope by post that very morning.

They walked silently out of the library.

"Maybe we shouldn't go back to that classroom," said Alicia, "In case Filch figures out it was us the other day."

Cassius scoffed. "The man doesn't have two brain cells to rub together to figure that one out... but if it makes you feel better... although I did want to have a look at where that passageway came from."

"I thought you wanted to get this report out of the way?"

"That too. Don't tell me you're not even curious about it."

Alicia shrugged. She had, in fact, gone over to check out the corridor, but had failed to see any miniature door.

"I've already been. There was nothing," she said.

"Me too," Cassius replied. "I thought maybe two people needed to be there or something."

Huh. Maybe... she hadn't thought of that.

"Well... maybe later," she said. "I have a lot of work to do, though, so let's just get this done first. If we have time..."

"Where do you want to go?"

Alicia frowned. Where did she want to go? Though her friends knew that she was stuck on the project with Cassius for the rest of the term, she didn't want to work somewhere public where they'd be disturbed by chattering people or interrupted by other curious Slytherins and Gryffindors. Then again, she'd been proved on several occasions that neither of them could keep their hands off each other if they were secluded for long enough, and she wanted to avoid being in that position as much as possible. She remembered stupidly saying that she would think about it, but that had been in the heat of the moment. She couldn't think clearly when she was around him. Even when he wasn't around... she'd spent the past few days with her nose glued to her Anthology before bed, hand between her legs, remembering how good it felt to rock against him while he kissed her. Alicia shivered.

"Earth to Spinnet," said Cassius for the second time.

"Huh? Oh. Er... I dunno," she said, feeling stupid.

Cassius looked at her blankly.

"Right..."

Alicia sighed.

"Well. I dunno. Why do I have to come up with a suggestion? Why don't you come up with something."

"Somebody's PMSing," Cassius sang, ducking before Alicia could hit him.

"You prick," she muttered, "I'm not PMSing."

"Right," he said dubiously.

"Argh. Just... shut up. Let's - oh, I know, we can go to one of the music rooms."

The music rooms were soundproofed rooms, some small for individual practicing, and others larger for groups. The only problem was the lack of tables.

"We could work on the piano," Alicia suggested.

"Forget it, let's just work on the floor." He laid his robes down and transfigured them into a mat. Alicia eyed his spell work enviously.

"So why don't you just transfigure a table?"

"Harder," Cassius replied with a shrug. "A mat's just... flat. With a table, every angle needs to be dead on otherwise you get sloping... and everything needs to be tight, or else it might collapse. And it won't last as long... a mat's more similar to robes than robes are to a table. Don't you listen in class, Spinnet?"

Alicia rolled her eyes. Trust him to be a know-it-all on top of being a sexy douchebag. Hmph. Well, at least she was a better chaser.

"Whatever. Let's just get this done. Did you get Bishops books? You never said..."

Cassius grinned, and pulled an envelope out of his book bag. He poured a handful of miniatures books the size of marbles into his palm. Alicia gaped at him.

"Are you kidding?"

He tapped his wand, and a books clattered to the ground.

"You - you bought all of them?"

"My father bought all of them," said Cassius, correcting her, as he neatly spread the books out before them. "Ravenclaws are assholes... they've all took turns reserving them one after another so you can't take any out til November."

Alicia frowned. She could only imagine the trouble she would have been in had Cassius not been so... resourceful. It wasn't fair, and she felt like an overgrown infant, but she wanted to throw a tantrum. Poverty fucking sucked.

"What did I do now?" said Cassius, noticing her sour expression. She looked up at him.

"Nothing," she sighed, "Let's just get this done. I was thinking maybe we should just do the Arithmantic profiles first... at least those are always the same, and we already know how to do them. Then, when we find the spells, we can just apply them after, and we'll already have it done. I don't want to look at another bloody translation right now... although, did you find out if it was in Ancient French or whatever? Actually, never mind. I don't want to know. Let's just do the profiles. Then we can write up the report and say we've actually done something."

Cassius looked at her strangely.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said. "Okay. Who goes first?"

"How bout we shoot questions together, and one of us can write down the answers."

"You have neater writing than I do," said Cassius.

Alicia shrugged.

"Alright. Then I'll write." She took a long piece of parchment and drew four columns. She wrote down _Prompts_, then _name_ at the top of the first column.

"Is Cassius your first name?" she asked him, just to make sure.

"Yeah."

"Okay." She quickly wrote _Alicia Jade Spinnet_ at the top of the second column. "What's your full name?"

"Cassius Alexandre Warrington."

Alicia blinked. "Alexandre? R-E?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." She wrote his name down in the third column, then scrawled down _calculations_ in the fourth column. They did the sums individually, then Alicia neatly copied down a good copy of the calculations and answer in the fourth column. "Okay. Names. Done. Birthdays." She wrote down _birthday_ under _name_, then in the second column,_ Saturday, April 15th, 1978._

"Saturday, October 1st, 1977."

Alicia glanced at him.

"Turning eighteen, then?"

"Shall I answer that sarcastically or seriously?"

"It was rhetorical," Alicia shot back. She wrote down his birthday. Again, they each did their own calculations, compared, then Alicia copied down the good version.

"Okay, parents. Urgh. I always mix this part up. We do mums separately, I think -

"Yeah, always divide by gender."

"Okay..."

Suddenly, Alicia giggled, and Cassius looked at her.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Just... what if you aren't either gender? Like, a hermaphrodite? Or what if you're a tranny? I mean, it's entirely possible."

Cassius snickered. He'd definitely seen a few students over the years who could potentially fit either category.

"Okay, getting sidetracked," said Alicia. "Um, okay. Mums... and it's by maiden name. Shit."

She frowned suddenly, and Cassius quirked an eyebrow at her sudden change of mood.

"You sure you're not PMSing?" he said suspiciously.

"Oh fuck off, and even if I was, which I'm not, it isn't any of your business. It's just..." She fell silent, and sat up, resting her palms against the floor. Cassius followed suit, and stared at her.

"What, then? You look like you swallowed a lemon. Don't tell me you don't know your own mum's name -

Alicia scowled, but realized it didn't even matter if he found out who her mother was, because _Warrington_ had been elegantly printed in the Society Pages' list of Circle Society members, and he would most certainly be at the ball. And even if he wasn't, the invites were going out in two weeks' time, including a list of all those who were coming out, which meant everybody would know regardless.

She sighed crossly, and pursed her lips. If this was the muggle world, it wouldn't even matter if she was a bastard... the wizarding world could be maddeningly old fashioned at times.

"My mum's - my mum's maiden name is Dewitt," said Alicia.

Cassius' eyebrow went up a fraction of an inch. Dewitt. He knew the family of course, partly by personal reputation and partly because Edmund Dewitt was a managing partner at AbelDewittRoy, an accounting firm that managed a good deal of Europe's biggest businesses, both magical and muggle. But Cassius knew it wasn't her grandfather that made Alicia so anxious. Everybody had heard the warning stories from their parents about good children gone astray, stories which featured people like various members of the Black family, and one Aurora Dewitt.

It wasn't often that Cassius was speechless, but he couldn't quite figure out what to say. Alicia had flopped back down onto her stomach, and ignored him as she wrote down her infamous mother's name - _Aurora Felicity Dewitt_.

A half-blood then, Cassius thought to himself. Well. That was better than the other option. He frowned. Better. Better for who? Why did it even matter to him what she was? Because, he mused, half-blood was acceptable. Sort of. Acceptable for what?

"What's your mum's name?" Alicia asked, pretending that nothing had happened. Cassius sprawled himself out next to her, and looked over at the parchment. There it was.

"Er, Céleste Hélène Rosier. Forward accent on - yeah, okay, I take it you've taken a bit of French."

Alicia shrugged. "In grammar school."

Cassius didn't bother to ask what grammar school was, but imagined it to be some muggle variation of charm school.

"So... er, you're not going to say anything, are you? To your friends I mean," she said suddenly. "I mean - they'll all know in a couple weeks -

"Why," Cassius interrupted, "What's going on in a couple weeks?"

Alicia flushed unhappily. "Debutante ball invites are going out -

Cassius stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Deb - you're going to that, then?" he said incredulously.

Alicia scowled, and pushed her hair out of the way so that she could see him better.

"What, I'm not good enough for it?" She laughed bitterly. "I don't want to bloody go anyway. My grandparents are making me, though. My parents aren't married, you see, so as far as they're concerned, I'm a Dewitt."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Cassius replied, sitting up. "It's just... you know they'll eat you alive, right?" He said it matter-of-factly, and Alicia knew that he was right. Still, it didn't lessen the sting.

"Of course I know that. It's ridiculous anyway, why the hell would I want to prance around in some stupid dress in front of people who hate me and don't even know me? Oh, right. I don't. Only gran says I have to 'redeem' the family or some bollocks. It's not my bloody fault my mum doesn't give a shit! And anyway, neither do I."

She growled in frustration and slammed down her quill.

"And I told them it's fucking stupid, and I don't know why I'm talking about this with you - I fucking hate my life. Christ, I sound like a baby."

"Who you going with, then?" Cassius asked, trying to sound indifferent.

Alicia glanced sharply at him. He looked back at her, his usual impassive mask back in place, and he blinked.

"Why do you care? Thought you said no romance."

Cassius raised an eyebrow.

"I don't care, Spinnet. And there is no romance. Like I said, I don't see a problem with us having an affair -

"I hate that word," said Alicia viciously. "Anyway, it's only an affair if one of us has somebody, isn't it?"

"I don't fucking know," said Cassius just as vehemently. "Anyhow, I was just asking. It's called being polite."

Alicia scoffed. "Yeah, right. What, you wanna go warn the poor imbecile who asked out the Dewitt bastard? I'm not going with anyone. Nobody knows I'm going yet, besides Angie and Katie. And you, now, I guess. And obviously, once word gets out..." She laughed again. "Which is fine with me. I don't want to go with anybody. I don't want to go to this stupid thing at all... Huh. Maybe if they realize I won't be coming with anybody, then they won't let me come out at all."

Alicia flopped down onto her back, and she squealed in surprise when Cassius climbed over top of her. She breathed deeply, and his smell clouded her mind.

"I'd go with you," he said.

"Thought you said no romance," she said, swallowing tightly as he leaned forward to kiss her neck.

"No romance," he affirmed. Alicia shivered as she felt his warm breath snake across her skin. His low voice murmuring into her ear made her body hum with anticipation. "But I still want to shag you, and your grandparents are fucking up there as far as society goes -

Alicia stiffened.

"I said no romance, Spinnet," said Cassius, tracing her lower lip with his thumb. "Anyway, I can't." He kissed her. "My parents would kill me."

"Because I'm a half-blood."

He kissed her again.

"And you're a Gryffindor."

She kissed him back.

"And I'm a bastard."

They continued to list all the reasons why they were unsuitable for each other, as Cassius unbuttoned her shirt with one hand and stroked her hair with the other. He kissed her skin as more of it was revealed, tracing her collarbones so gently and teasingly that her back arched off the floor, pushing her into him and causing his grip on her hair to tighten almost to the point of pain.

"I've already got a date," he said, just as he reached the last button, and the shirt fell open, revealing her smooth tawny skin and soft, satiny rose-coloured bra.

Alicia didn't dare open her mouth for fear of letting out a moan when he suddenly placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on her skin, right above the waistband of her skirt. He bit her, though, and she let out a soft yelp.

"Who's your date," she gasped, as he slid his lips slowly up to her navel, causing her back to arch once again.

"Can't remember," he said, his voice vibrating against her skin. It was true. He'd practically circled one of the names on his mother's list at random, after having eliminated all the undesirables.

"Why do we always end up like this?" she said suddenly, just as Cassius was getting to the good part.

He stared down at her incredulously. Really? She was questioning this now?

"You're a fucking tease, Spinnet," he sighed, rolling off of her and lying down on his back so that they were side to side. "You're a fucking tease, and I swear to almighty Circe, you're a fucking virgin and a half if I ever saw one."

Alicia sat up angrily.

"Even if I was a virgin, which I'm not, thought I don't know why I'm justifying myself to you, why should it matter? I thought all you wanted to do was fuck me anyway."

Cassius laughed.

"Exactly, baby, I don't want some shitty inexperienced shag."

"You're a dick. And don't call me that. And I'm not a fucking tease. Anyway, you're the one who keeps coming on to me, and pulling away."

This, Cassius couldn't deny, but he refused to admit it.

"The only reason I keep pulling away, _baby_, is because I'm not desperate enough to force myself on somebody who clearly doesn't know what she wants."

"_I_ don't know what I want?" said Alicia incredulously. "And I'm not your fucking _baby_, so don't call me that." _  
_

"You _don't_ know what you want," Cassius replied. "I bet you've fucking creamed yourself, but you're too much of a prude, a virgin or a goddamn tease to actually follow through with what you want. Don't deny it either, _baby_, you want me to fuck your brains out just as much as I want to, otherwise you would have hexed me like any other bitch in your house. You think I'm a hypocrite, don't you? What, cause I don't want to announce to the world that I want to fuck a half-blood? You're just as bad, baby - just picture it. What would you say if your friends asked you who you were off seeing every night. Just think about it - Johnson and Bell, hell, even the Weasel twins, all standing around, grilling you - you gonna say you're taking it from a _big, bad Slytherin, _and that you actually like it? That maybe, you're even giving as good as you get? We're all hypocrites, every last person in this entire goddamn world. You, princess, are not the fucking exception."

Alicia scrambled onto her feet and hastily buttoned up her shirt, turning her back to Cassius, who laughed angrily.

"Run away, Spinnet - you're a brave little Gryffindor, aren't you?"

"Shut up."

"You're gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart."

"Fuck off!" Alicia spat, spinning on her heel. She raised her wand, pointing it threateningly at Cassius' chest. He raise his hands in mock surrender, a sardonic grin on his face. "I hate you," she hissed, jabbing him in the chest. "You're just another fucking prick." She let out a hollow laugh. "And for a second, I thought you were actually, possibly, a decent human being."

She grabbed her belongings and wrenched open the door.

"Don't make that mistake twice," Cassius called out as she slammed the door behind him.

* * *

Cassius didn't often indulge in smoking, but every now and then the occasion called for it, and he would pull out his single pack of appropriately named _Chasers_ from the bottom of the his trunk and seek refuge in the Slytherin bleachers by the Quidditch pitch.

He had an hour left until curfew, so he bundled up warmly, pretending that his scarf didn't smell like Alicia's hair, and he stormed out of Slytherin common room in long striding steps, anxiously stroking the pack in his pocket next to his grandfather's old flask filled with Ogden's Old Gold.

Outside, it was dark and damp, and about as foul as Cassius' mood. He cast a water-repelling charm and a warming spell on his clothing before settling down on one of the bleachers. He took a quick swig of the Ogden's Old, grimacing at the first burn, but quickly relishing it as the cold rain dripped down his unprotected face. He lit his cigarette with a match, not trusting himself to properly _incendio_ the thing without setting the whole thing on fire, and inhaled sharply.

When had he smoked his last? A month ago, he mused, the last time he'd had a run in with his mother, the only other person in the world who could put him in such a state, with the exception of Alicia Spinnet, it seemed.

Why he was so rattled by their... argument, he didn't dare ponder. He'd had plenty of run-ins with Spinnet on the pitch in the past, full of elbows and knees and insults rude enough to make Hagrid blush. Yet it'd been different this time. It'd been personal. Cassius didn't do personal.

He could still feel her skin against his, though thankfully, the cigarette had done its job by eliminating her scent from his scarf.

He took another swig from his grandfather's flask, unable to believe that so much madness had gone on in such a short period of time.

The burn was starting to feel good now, in contrast with the cool rain on his face. He liked having damp hair. If he could have damp hair all the time, he would, he mused. He took another deep drag from his cigarette.

What a situation, he thought grimly. And of course, they just _would_ have classes together the next day. And of course, they just _would_ have to finish up the stupid weekly report.

A Dewitt. She was a bloody Dewitt. Sort of. A half-blood Dewitt. He scowled, wondering how it was that of all people, Alicia Spinnet was the infamous Dewitt bastard. And she would be at the debutante ball. They'd eat her alive. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said it, though he regretted being so... so what? Himself?

But it was true. Worse, Spinnet was sexy in her own way, but she certainly wasn't an English Rose by any standards - and her parents certainly weren't wealthy in their own rights, be it in the muggle world or the magical world, judging by her worn-out robes... in sum, she lacked any sort of redeeming quality in the eyes of society. Why didn't her grandparents support her? They were certainly more than able to... they _were_ funding her coming-out, after all, it seemed. Why not her day-to-day life? He suddenly remembered her strange reaction when he'd shown her the books his father had sent him, and he understood then that she'd been appalled. If she were to be his mistress, he would put her up more than decently, and she could have a new outfit for every hour of the day if it was her fancy... And half-bloods were certainly more than acceptable as mistress material... Wasn't that how Theodore Nott's mother had gotten around to becoming Mrs. Nott in the first place? He remembered the rumours that had circulated, for the first Mrs. Nott had apparently been barren... Nott Jr. had made his presence known at the right time... but a little voice in his head reminded him what had (most likely) become of the second Mrs. Nott, and he shuddered, imagining the grotesque image of Alicia being hacked to death in a terribly muggle manner by his faceless, imaginary future wife in the parlour, while their imaginary child (for it was said that Nott Jr. had witnessed the entire thing) looked on in silent fear.

Madness, it was all madness of course, because Alicia Spinnet would never allow him to kiss her again, and it was more than high time that he start shifting his focus elsewhere before he fell in too deep. Two weeks was not a long time. Two weeks was a pin-drop in time, and Cassius had all intentions of living to at least a hundred in perfect health. He had his whole life ahead of him. He looked good, he was intelligent, and he was wealthy. If he played his cards right, he would have his cake and eat it too. Spinnet was nothing. She was one scraggly piece of forgotten chocolate on the side of the cake.

Cassius took another long swig of Ogden's.

Spinnet was nothing.

* * *

"I'll castrate him," Angelina snarled as soon as she caught sight of Alicia, who tried to slip into the common room unnoticed. Alicia flinched, startled at having been seen so quickly and in such a state. She'd never been the crying sort, but she'd fled the music room with unshed tears stinging her eyes, tears that threatened to fall until they burst like a dam as soon as she stepped into the first girl's bathroom in her path. She'd cleaned herself up as well as she could, but no glamour could hide the tell-tale shine in her eyes, or the smallness she seemed to exude in her anger and - dare she think it - hurt.

"I'm fine," Alicia muttered. "Nothing happened -

"Then why's your shirt buttoned wrong?" Angelina demanded. Was it? Damn. Think, Alicia, think.

"Spilled crumbs down my shirt and I got bits of icing stuck to my skin," she lied. "Don't worry, he didn't try anything funny."

"Then why were you crying?"

"No reason, I'm an idiot," Alicia mumbled. "Warrington didn't do anything... you know how he is, bit boring really, as far as Slytherins go. He had to leave early cause he forgot to finish his Theory of Magic paper, and I just got really frustrated and you know... had a stupid meltdown."

Angelina quirked an eyebrow.

"You had a meltdown," she repeated suspiciously.

"It's just - it's just so annoying, having to work with him is all. You know how I am about deadlines... we barely got through the weekly report so now we have to meet up again, which means I waste more time, and I have other shit to hand in and it just drives me absolutely fucking bonkers!"

Alicia felt a fresh wave of tears come on, and Angelina looked alarmed.

"... merlin, you weren't kidding, were you?"

"No!" Alicia exclaimed hysterically, lying through her teeth. "I fucking hate group projects!" She ignored the looks from the other students in the common room. Angelina shot them dirty looks and led Alicia up the stairs to their dorm while making soothing statements.

"You're just having one of those NEWT breakdowns... just - just try to breathe. There should be a medical name for it, I'm telling you, you're like the third breakdown this week...Anyway, you're alright... you could have done loads worse than Warrington, right? I mean, thank god those idiots... what are their names again? Crabbe and Goyle. Merlin, just thank god those two geniuses aren't in our year! Here, have a chocolate frog - don't worry, I didn't get it from the twins. And at least you haven't got Snape breathing down your back every two seconds! Honestly, I thought I was going to pass out in my cauldron at some point."

Alicia forced herself to laugh, and Angelina gave her an awkward, sympathetic pat on the back... dealing with an emotionally unstable Alicia was a rare and uncomfortable task, for out of the three of them, Katie was the softer one, the one who sniffled at the sad parts in books, and Angelina was the mood-swinging psychopath. Alicia was... Alicia, the one you could always count on to be... sane? No, that wasn't it... the one you could always count on to be... to be just right. Mellow. Only now, well, now it was Alicia's turn to be comforted.

Except Alicia didn't dare speak the truth. She lied as well as though she were telling the truth, and to be honest, she found it frighteningly easy. Angelina bought her meltdown story because it was always the seemingly stable ones who seemed to have giant meltdowns when you least expected it, and over the silliest things. Alicia fit easily into this little profile.

But if there was one person Alicia couldn't lie to, it was herself. Somehow, in the span of two weeks, Cassius Warrington had snaked his way into her head like the serpentine Slytherin that he was, and Alicia feared the worst: she fancied him. He was a spineless, emotionless shit under her shoe, and she fancied him. She'd felt the tightness in her heart in the music room when he'd flipped out at her, an unfamiliar choking sensation, as though he'd wrapped his large callused hands around her throat, and she'd all but bolted in fear. He'd been right when he said whatever it was between them was a mess. Mess. It was too simple a word. It was... it was vicious. It was one vicious fucking mess.

She felt strangely calm all of a sudden, though her stomach was in coils. She felt like she did when she was taking a penalty shot, dead to the world but ready for action, with the same slightly sweaty palms, cold feet and elevated heartbeat, the same tunnel vision and the same tightness in her stomach, as though she were a bow, pulled taut by an invisible cord.

Angelina had a worried expression on her face, but Alicia gave her a grim smile.

"I'm fine, Angie. Really. Just nerves, is all. I think... I think I just need to be alone for a bit, though, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't," Angelina replied, sounding flustered. "Are you - are you sure?"

"Yeah... yeah, I think I'm just going to go to bed a little early..."

"O-kay... well... you'll let me know if you need anything, won't you?"

Alicia nodded.

"G'night."

"G'night Alicia... I hope you feel better..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to all my reviewers! I love to hear feedback from you guys so let me know how I'm doing, if there are things you like/don't like about the plot or the characters... I had a hard time with this chapter because I don't have a clear idea of where I'm going with this - everything seems to be writing itself. **

**HAPPY NEW YEAR!**

* * *

Alicia couldn't remember a time when she'd so looked forward to a Hogsmeade trip. Even her first visit couldn't have been nearly as welcome. The past two weeks had been strange. Her friends had tiptoed around her for a good part of it, everybody apparently having heard of her little breakdown, and she and Cassius had all but ignored each other, as though the events of the first two weeks of school hadn't existed at all.

It had been easier than she'd originally suspected, despite the added challenge of getting their weekly reports handed in and progressing on their project. In class, they sat at opposite ends of the room, and they'd miraculously avoided each other in the corridors by losing themselves in the crowd whenever the other was around. It'd become like second nature, like unconsciously skipping over the trick stairs, or avoiding Filch and Mrs. Norris. They managed to work on the assignment by correspondence even, writing up their own Arithmantic profiles and sending them by owl. The method had proved so successful that they did the same with the weekly reports - Alicia wrote the first one, and Cassius, the second. If anything, they advanced faster individually than they had working together. While Alicia had the disadvantage of lacking the secondary materials, she'd gotten rather comfortable with Carson Bishop and Peter Kapur, both of whom were sympathetic towards her unfortunate group situation.

When the last Saturday of the month finally arrived, Alicia was as hyper as a five-year-old with a Honeydukes gift card. Today was going to be her day. Katie had arranged their fittings with Gladrags, and afterwards, they were to present themselves at the Hog's Head for the first secret meeting of Harry's defence club. As an added bonus, the girls were going to get their hair and nails done _Charmed Life_, and Angelina, who was eighteen, was going to buy them their first legally-purchased bottle of fire whiskey.

The girls were among the first to clamber into the horseless carriages, the first of which left at eight o'clock sharp. Katie had booked them appointments at _Charmed Life_ for eight-thirty, then for Gladrags at nine-thirty. It'd been nearly impossible to get a Gladrags appointment for the three of them at the same time, but Katie's cousin's best friend's mother was the head seamstress, and had made the impossible quite possible.

By the time the girls' hair had been washed, cut and styled, Gladrags was already packed with upper-year students browsing for accessories while awaiting their fitting. The schedule was tight - a minute late, and you were too late; thus, the students milled around, for fear of missing their appointments.

"Hi, is Esmerelda here?" Katie asked breathlessly, as they crammed their way to the reception desk.

"She's booked all day, you'll have to make an appointment for -

"We've already got an appointment, nine-thirty. Bell, Johnson, Spinnet."

"Right on time, then," said the red-haired receptionist, looking utterly unimpressed. "Through the frosted door, then."

Katie grinned, and grabbed Alicia and Angelina by the hands, and forcefully shoved her way towards the frosted glass double-doors at the opposite end of the room.

"Ooh, look at that tiara!"

"Focus, Katie! We can do that after!" Angelina barked.

They made it to the glass doors, and Katie knocked sharply, five times.

Alicia grabbed her by the wrist, laughing.

"I think that's enough."

As if on cue, the doors swung open, and a flustered looking blonde woman ushered them in, after confirming their identities.

Alicia nearly turned and fled.

"I hope you don't mind," the woman, Esmerelda, was saying, "We normally only service three people at a time, but because of the added traffic, we've had to take on extra clients at once to get everything done. We'll put up a screen, of course -

Alicia shifted her gaze from the three Slytherin boys who were already standing on platforms in front of large floor-to-ceiling mirrors, drowning in lengths of fabric, resembling three little boys playing dress-up in their fathers' Sunday best. She could feel Cassius' hard stare, burning into the back of her head through his reflection on the mirror.

She felt better, noticing that Katie and Angelina both looked just as aghast at the sight.

"A screen would be much appreciated," Katie said. "Yes, a rather large screen, if possible."

"Of course," said Esmerelda, "We do apologize. Yule preparations are always madness... the Paris branch has had to hire seasonal staff -

"Oh, we can only imagine," said Katie sympathetically. "We just, er, wouldn't want anybody seeing what we're wearing in advance and all."

"Yes, quite understandable. Anne-Lise, the screen - put it up, quickly - we are already running behind," said Esmerelda. "Yes, the silkscreen - be a dear and enlarge it, will you? Is that a suitable size, ladies?"

The chinese silk screen, which had clearly originally been intended for single-person use, had been enlarged and extended to stretch across the room, effectively dividing most of the room in half. While Cassius, Montague and Pucey were still visible from the doorway, they would not be able to look at each other once the girls were on the platforms for their fittings.

The girls nodded, and Esmerelda clapped her hands together.

"Excellent. In that case, step right this way. You may leave your belongings on the chaise-lounges here. Would you ladies care for a drink? We've martinis or wine."

The girls exchanged gleeful grins.

"Martinis," they said simultaneously.

* * *

Cassius glanced at the silk screens through the corner of his eye, torturing himself by watching the shadows of the three girls undressing themselves as three other silhouettes danced scrambled around in the background.

"Mr. Warrington, arms up if you please."

"Bloody striptease, I'm telling you," Montague muttered. "That one's Spinnet, I guarantee it."

Cassius froze, but couldn't turn, for the tailor, Bernardo, was measuring his arms, and pins were flying in and out of the fabric, rearranging themselves as Bernardo flicked his wand back and forth.

"How can you tell?" he said casually, as giggles burst out from the other side of the screen.

Pucey and Montague smirked at him through the mirror.

"Don't tell me you don't recognize her bent over like that. Even in silhouette, that is one fine fucking ass."

Cassius felt his jaw clench, but he forced himself to calmly nod.

"And that one in the middle's Bell for sure," said Pucey, grinning like an idiot. Cassius peeked at the screen again. Sure enough, the middle silhouette was slipping off a skirt, pulling them down legs that looked to be a mile long. The third silhouette was no doubt Johnson, for it was the tallest and the leanest out of the three. And there was, of course, Alicia's silhouette, shorter and rounder than the three, arms stretched up as one of the scurrying shadows slipped something over her head.

"Legs a little more separated, please, Mr. Warrington - Mr. Pucey, please stop fidgeting or I'll have to redo the hem."

"For merlin's sake, I fucking hate fittings. I don't care what this one looks like, I'm taking it. If I have to try on another set of dress robes -

Pucey's rant was cut off by more giggling. He made a gagging noise.

"How much longer?" he moaned.

* * *

"Oh, Alicia, you look absolutely gorgeous! I knew that was the perfect dress," said Angelina, gushing as soon as Anne-Lise finished shortening the hem of the dress. "Look at that back, I knew it, I just knew it was the one!"

Alicia giggled.

"It's a debbie dress, not a wedding gown."

"Still! It's the _one_," Angelina gasped.

"Try it with the accessories," said Clarisse, one of the seamstresses, bringing over a tray that elegantly displayed an assortment of jewellery. The girls oohed and ahhed, agonizing over the accessories.

"I'm having this tiara," said Katie firmly. "Please, please tell me you still have some in stock -

"Our policy for debutante balls is that we only sell one of each item so that no young lady is seen in the same thing. This tiara is the only one like it -

"Done. And these gloves? Oh, and these earrings - is that overkill? This is so difficult!"

The girls let out a squeal of excitement, just because.

"If I may make a suggestion, I think for you, Miss Spinnet, these poplar hair pearls would look fabulous with you hair, especially -

The seamstress flicked her wand a few times, and Alicia's wavy hair flew into an updo, with strands that gently framed her face. The tiny pearls were strewn about in an almost crown-like formation, and the girls gasped. "- with these earrings, and these gloves, I think you look exquisite. Try them on. And for you, Miss Bell, if you have your heart set on the tiara, these little studs here would not be too distracting, and this little necklace is just enough to add some detail, all without taking away from the dress and the tiara. With gloves of course. And for you, miss Johnson, I strongly suggest these earrings here, but I would advise against a necklace. Perhaps a hairpiece similar to Miss Spinnet's -

* * *

"Done, done and done," said Bernardo, clasping his hands together. "We will send these over to your parents' homes as soon as possible for approval, and we shall contact you if there are any problems. If you have any questions yourselves, do not hesitate to contact the shop. I thank you for your patience. I know fittings are not the easiest things, especially when one is uncertain of what to wear. I do think, however, that you have all made the right decisions."

"Thank you, Bernardo," said Montague smoothly.

"It's been my pleasure, gentlemen."

The boys followed Bernardo away from the mirrors and the platforms all too eagerly, happy to get their legs moving once again. It had been a long hour and a half, and Cassius thanked the gods once again that he was born a wizard, for he could only imagine the pains of having to simultaneously fit three people into a dozen dress robes in under ninety minutes.

He suddenly noticed a deafening silence, whereas previously, the air had been filled with chatter. Just as Bernardo reached out to open the frosted glass doors leading to the mayhem outside, Cassius craned his head over his shoulder, and felt his heart drop to his stomach. He caught Her eye, and she stared back at him with a frosty, distant expression, the first time they'd directly exchanged eye contact since the last Incident. She turned away, just as the deafening roar from the other side of the doors took over the room, and Cassius caught a final glimpse of her back before he was ushered out of the fitting room, only to be replaced by Bastard Bishop and two of his gawking companions, Dickhead Davies and Kiss-Ass Kapur, all of whom openly gaped at the three girls like they'd never seen formal wear before. Cassius ignored the fact that he was a hypocrite.

"They clean up pretty nicely," said Montague grudgingly as the boys shoved their way through the crowd. "I could fuck Johnson for days if she wasn't such a bitch. I didn't know Spinnet was going... must be a charity thing... thought she was a mudblood."

"I'll wager Bell and Johnson had to beg their parents to fund her," Pucey commented, still chortling from Montague's charity comment. "You seen those school skirts of hers? I swear she's had the same ones since third year... not that I'm complaining, mind - I don't think she's realized she's grown a bit over the years. Hell, I should start dropping knuts around, just to see her bend over to pick them up."

Cassius let out a sharp breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and his friends shot him a funny look.

"You alright there, mate? You look like you're choking on a dung beetle," said Pucey.

"I'm fine," Cassius snapped, feeling even more disturbed by his venomous reaction.

Pucey and Montague exchanged glances.

"You sure? You've been all out of sorts for a bit..."

"And don't think I haven't noticed you've been smoking, mate - I swear, if it fucks with your performance -

"Oh sod off, I've been running fine, haven't I? Anyway, it's nothing. It's just my mother. Keeps sending me bloody letters about my future and whatnot," Cassius lied.

The boys shook their heads.

"Rotten luck, mate, who've they picked out for you then?"

"No one yet... just a few potentials. Just the usual bloody threats, but you know... This time, 'they mean it'."

Pucey scowled.

"That's it? Just a few potentials and you go off your rocker? At least you don't have a solid fucking contract in the works!"

"So it's happening then?"

"Might as well be, the way the way they're going about it... The Flints this and the Flints that... If I don't find anybody by graduation, I'm fucked. If anyone should be going off the deep-end right now, it ought to be me."

"Yeah, well... I'll get over it," Cassius muttered.

"You better," Montague warned, "Or take it out on the Weasel twins. I hate those pricks. I swear, if I find another one of those bloody puking pastils or whatever bullshit they've come up with next in my pudding again -

Cassius tuned out Montague's rant, relieved by the change of topic. His friends didn't often delve into details regarding his personal life - talking about feelings was something they chose not to participate in on a regular basis - so the fact that they'd even brought it up was... disconcerting, to say in the least. Even more disturbing was the way he'd reacted to his friends' earlier comments about Spinnet, because he'd been schooling himself on the art of apathy in regards to her for the past two weeks. The past hour had utterly ruined his day.

"Hang on a bloody second, isn't today the 1st? It's your bloody birthday!"

It was, wasn't it? Another delightful year, come and gone. Here he was, another year closer to the end of his life.

"Well don't look so happy about it," said Pucey sarcastically. "C'mon, mate, cheer up! Here, go buy us some liquor - you're legal now! Circe, I can't believe you didn't say anything. We need to throw you a party."

Cassius cheered up at the word liquor. That's right, he was legal now...

"Well I'm not going to buy me my own birthday drinks, if that's what you're thinking," he announced. The boys threw him a handful of coins, and Cassius grinned.

"Well there's the first smile I've seen on you in two weeks... when did you become such a lush, Cash?"

* * *

The Hog's Head was packed with students, which was an unusual sight indeed. The girls nursed their butter beers in awkward silence amongst the mixed crowd, as Harry and Hermione took turns speaking. The mood was sombre as the discussion turned to Cedric Diggory's death and you-know-who's return. Alicia automatically avoided glancing at Cho Chang, who looked like she was about to cry as some fourth-year tosser argued that you-know-who couldn't possibly have returned. Mercifully, he shut his mouth when Harry made it clear that they weren't going to discuss the matter any further, and that the group was going to meet for one purpose only: to actually practice Defence Against the Dark Arts.

_Dumbledore's Army_, they would be called. Alicia didn't hesitate to sign her name on the list as soon as it was passed around, though she couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding... it was juvenile in a way, this little secret club of theirs, but it also existed to fill a need... it existed to provide them skills to protect themselves in case of danger. Was danger so imminent that they had to resort to such clandestine measures to learn basic skills? The fact that Umbridge refused to teach practical knowledge in her class was a sign of the times... A dark storm was brewing somewhere in the distance, and it was coming along fast.

"I don't know about you," said Angelina as soon as they left the pub, alongside Fred and George, "but I need a bloody drink." They all voiced their agreement, and Angelina took drink orders from them. She disappeared into _The Magic Neep_, the local greengrocer's who also sold alcohol, and came back carrying a couple bottles of wine and two bottles of fire whiskey, one for the twins and one for the girls to share.

"I say we head over to the Three Broomsticks to eat. I'm starving," said Alicia.

"Yeah, alright... I could go for some shepherd's pie right about now," said Fred.

"Mm... that would be perfect."

"So what do you guys think about it? Bit strange isn't it, how all those people were there?" said Katie, as they settled down into their booth.

"Yeah, well, just goes to show we're not the only ones who think the world's going to hell," Alicia replied.

"Optimistic as always, Alicia," said Angelina sarcastically, grinning playfully.

"Yeah, well... I dunno. It's a really good idea and I think it's cool of Harry to take it on... I'm just - well, think about what it _means_."

"It means Umbridge is an idiot," said George. "Nothing else to it."

Alicia rolled her eyes.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about."

"Oh, we know what you're talking about, but what's the use in going on about it? We'll just have to wait and see what comes, and we'll just have to act when the time is right."

"Mum said during the last war, all muggle-borns had to go into hiding, and even half-bloods... people disappearing left, right and centre... curfew in all the magical communities, even muggles being killed," said Katie grimly. "Not to mention, spies all over the place, and the Ministry all up in the air... Even St. Mungo's was off-limits to non pure-bloods. Mum had a cousin whose wife was a muggleborn... she actually died in labour because they couldn't get a private healer to risk a delivery."

Alicia shuddered, but couldn't help but feel like some patterns were starting to repeat themselves... they'd all heard vague whispers about disappearances here and there during the summer - which was nothing out of the ordinary in the muggle world - but not being able to track somebody in the wizarding world was always a bad sign. That the Ministry was taking such an active interest in the ongoings at Hogwarts was also a bad sign, not to mention, Angelina's father's constant warnings set off alarm bells that even within the Auror's department, things were starting to look bad.

"We should probably talk about something else," said Angelina suddenly. "There are a lot of people in here... wouldn't what the wrong sort to overhear."

They discreetly glanced around the room, taking toll of who was present. The booths were filled with students settling down for lunch and a pint, happily chatting and comparing their morning purchases. Alicia waved at Evangeline Frank, who was sitting a few booths down and across from them with a couple other Hufflepuffs. The door opened and the little bell tinkled, announcing the presence of newcomers. Alicia looked over, and Carson Bishop, Roger Davies and Peter Kapur made their way in, cheeks pink from the cold. Carson caught her eye and grinned, waving her over.

"Just a sec guys," said Alicia, "I'm going to go say hi to Carson."

"Ooh, _Carson_," Fred and George sang, laughing like idiots. Alicia rolled her eyes. They made kissy faces, and howled with laughter. Alicia ignored them, and stalked over towards the bar, the only place with seats left, next to a few local regulars who were eying the students disdainfully.

"Hey guys," she said, leaning against a pillar by the bar. "Guess you got your fittings done?"

"Yeah, a right pain the arse it was too," Peter complained. "I don't think I've ever been stabbed so many times in my life!"

"He's ticklish," Carson explained, reaching out towards Peter's ribcage.

"Oi! Fuck off!"

"Hey, so I didn't know you were going to this thing. When did that happen?"

"Oh... er, it was sort of a last-minute arrangement," said Alicia awkwardly. "My, er, grandparents kind of forced it on me."

He nodded sympathetically.

"It's bollocks, eh? My girl, she goes to WADA but she's only a sixth year, so she isn't coming out 'til next year, which means I have to go with somebody who's coming out or who's already out. Have you got a date already? I haven't gotten round to asking anyone yet, I've just been so busy what with school and all, but I mean - not as a last resort or anything, if I wasn't with Luce, I'd ask you out in a heartbeat - but you know, if you haven't got a date yet, do you wanna go with me?"

Alicia blinked stupidly. "Oh! Yeah. Yeah, why not? To be honest, I hadn't really given it much thought either..."

"Yeah, me either. A lot of the girls take it seriously - most of 'em have had dates lined up since sixth year. Kind of ridiculous, yeah?"

Alicia laughed.

"Oi, Carson, what do you want to drink?" Roger asked, interrupting the conversation.

"Er, just a pint. Maybe a shot... you lads down for shots? How bout you, Alicia? On me."

"Yeah, sure. Who turns down free drinks?"

"Alright," said Carson, looking over at Roger, "Make that two pints of butter beer and shots all around. Chinese fireballs?"

They groaned simultaneously, but accepted the challenge.

"Hey, Rosie," said Roger, "how bout it then? Four pints and a round of Chinese fireballs! Care to join us?"

"Oh sweetie, how many times do I have to tell you, I can't drink with you - your father would kill me, even after all these years!"

Roger laughed, and winked.

"Ah, but I still say I'm much more fun than my father ever was."

Rosmerta shook her head, grinning as she poured out the pints.

"You don't know your father like I do, my dear. Are you all eighteen, then? Cheers!"

"Argh! And I certainly hope I never will," Roger replied, passing down the flaming shots of liquor. "Cheers to making it out of Gladrags alive."

"I'll cheers to that!"

Alicia blew out the green flames that rimmed the shot glass, and raised it to her lips in sync with the boys. The spicy, smoky liquor slipped down her throat about as easily as Skelegrow, and she picked up her pint of butter beer to drown out the taste.

"I don't know why we put ourselves through that."

Alicia blinked, for the world suddenly seemed to be tilted at a forty-five degree angle.

"Because it gets you sloshed like _that_," Roger slurred, waving his arms about. "Whoa."

Alicia giggled as wisps of green smoke rose out of Roger's nostrils.

"I should get back to my table," she managed to say, before bursting into giggles. "A-are you sure you don't want me to pay?" she slurred. "I know they're bloody pricey -

"Dunwurryboutit," Carson replied. "See you later A-Aleesha."

Alicia laughed hysterically.

"It's A-lee-cee-aaaaa," she enunciated, waving her arm about to each syllable like Flitwick conducting an orchestra.

"B-bye A-lee-cee-aaaaa!"

* * *

"Look at those assholes," Cassius muttered sullenly into his pint, glaring at the bar where Bishop, Davies and Kapur were laughing like hyenas. "And look at Spinnet, she looks like a bloody drunken trollop."

The girl in question tottered back towards the booth section, a silly grin on her face, laughing at herself as she breathed out little tendrils of green smoke.

"Oh, we should do some of those!" Pucey exclaimed. "Look how fucked she is! Oi, Spinnet, how much for a ride?" He tossed a knut on the floor in front of her as she started walking towards her booth. Cassius clenched his fists under the table as she looked down at the knut in confusion, then around. Suddenly, she saw him, and froze, looking like a hypogriff about to be run over by a train.

"Aren't you going to pick it up?" asked Montague innocently.

"Pick up your own d-damned nuts - knut," she slurred.

Where the fuck were her friends? Why weren't they here, pulling her away, defending her, threatening to curse them?

Cassius peered over his shoulder. Her friends sat four booths behind him; he could see the back of the Weasel twins' heads, and Bell and Johnson were too engrossed in whatever the twins were saying to notice that their drunken friend had run into trouble. Meanwhile, Alicia had stumbled her way over to them, and she leaned over, her palms pressed down on the edge of the wobbly table for support.

"Whoa!"

The boys snatched their drinks off the table before anything could spill. Alicia steadied herself, and glared at them.

"We were just kidding, Spinnet," said Montague, "Even if it _is _Warrington's birthday... you could offer us free services and we'd still tell you to go to hell. Go back to blowing the Weasels, I'm sure they accept mediocrity. And charity."

"Ibetchuknow _all_ about sucking dick, that why there aren't any girls on your team again this year? H-Happy birthday, by the way, you have _amaaaaaaazing_ friends -

Cassius stood up, before Montague could throttle Alicia to death.

"Don't get us kicked out, mate, it's my fucking birthday," he hissed. "And I really don't want to spend the rest of term working Runes alone."

"Get her the away from here then," Montague snarled. "Fucking harpy bitch. You're just lucky Warrington's your partner -

Finally, the Gryffindor idiots had realized there was some sort of commotion going on, and the whole lot of them came rushing over, wands drawn.

"Take her," said Cassius in disgust, pushing Alicia towards Johnson, who looked more like a Chinese fireball than her drunken, smoke-exhaling friend. "Some bloody friends you are, letting her get sloshed with those pricks."

Johnson opened her mouth to say something, but instead, focused her attention on Alicia, letting the twins to deal with the Slytherins. Cassius sat back down and knocked back his drink, ignoring the commotion around him. The twins finally backed away once they caught sight of Rosmerta's quick movements from the behind the bar, having come out from the back room and noticing the scene.

"Dunno how you deal with her," Montague bit out, breaking the tense silence that had settled over. He and Pucey broke out into an argument about which Gryffindor was the worst.

Cassius stood up. "Goin' to take a piss," he grunted.

He walked over towards the men's pisser, and accidentally-on-purpose rammed into Bishop, who was standing by the bar. He'd turned the corner before Bishop could see who the culprit was.

Fucking Spinnet. Seemed like the two most common words in his vocabulary over the past couple of weeks. Hadn't she been getting cosy with Bishop over at the bar, laughing and flipping her hair... flirting. And what kind of asshole ordered Chinese fireballs at noon anyway? Shots like that were for special occasions. He scowled. Yeah, like his birthday. He scoffed.

He washed his hands and left the washroom. Noticing the little door with a window that looked onto an alley in between the men's and women's washrooms, he pushed it open and stepped outside.

Having left his cloak inside, he was freezing in his robes, but he fished out his grandfather's flask to warm himself up, as well as his new pack of _Chasers_. He leaned against the wall, unhappily. What a fucking birthday, he thought grimly. A fantastic start to a new year. A sign to come; adulthood was going to suck.

He flinched, startled when the door suddenly opened, revealing a no-longer-smoke-breathing Spinnet standing in the doorway. She quickly stepped out, shutting the door behind her.

"I didn't know you smoked," she commented in a clear voice. Her drunkenness had evaporated with the green smoke. He shot her a dirty glare.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"One of your smokes," she replied, ignoring his rudeness. He blinked, and she repeated her request. "Or at least a hit off yours. Never had a magical cigarette."

"It isn't magical," he sneered.

She rolled her eyes.

"You know what I mean. A not-muggle cigarette. Whatever."

She reached out and plucked his from between his lips, and strangely, he didn't stop her. She examined it as though she'd never seen anything like it before, and shrugged before popping it into her mouth.

"Hm. Tastes better than a muggle smoke. What's that then?" She gestured at his open flask.

"Go back inside, Spinnet, before somebody comes looking for you," he said warily.

"I forgot it was your birthday," she said solemnly, looking like a sorry child.

"It isn't your business to know that it's my birthday," he replied, lighting a second cigarette for himself.

"You're right," she admitted, looking perplexed, and he realized that her boldness came from liquid courage, for her eyes were shining brighter than usual, darting back and forth like a nervous unicorn's despite her considerably more sober appearance. "But I do. Isn't it odd?"

"Listen," he snarled, "As stimulating as this is, I'd rather be alone right now. So please. Fuck. Off. The last thing I need is to wake up in the goddamn Hospital Wing next week because one of your asshole friends decided I was harassing you. We haven't spoken in what, two weeks? It's been fucking amazing. Let's keep this up."

She looked at him, hurt and astonishment in her eyes, and he felt like a slimy prick. Circe, she was so fucking honest, not at all like the sorts of people he was used to, so unable to hide embarrassment or happiness, even pain. It made him ache for her, in a way that made him sick. She nodded mutely, and stamped out the cigarette, avoiding his angry gaze, a chastised kitten instead of the wild lioness he competed with on the pitch. When she disappeared into the warmth of the pub, he kicked the door shut behind her with a slam, feeling like he'd just kicked a puppy instead of the hard metal door.

Cassius took another burning sip of Ogden's, letting the burn of the whiskey slide to the back of his throat. It was no match for the burn left by Spinnet's soft lips upon his own chapped ones.

* * *

"You okay?" asked Katie when Alicia slid back into the booth next to her, ten minutes after having left for the bathroom. "Urgh, you reek!"

"I went out for a smoke," she admitted. Katie cast a charm, scowling - she hated smoking - so that the odour evaporated.

"Why the hell would you go out and do that for? And where on earth did you get a smoke?"

She shrugged.

"Dunno... bad habit from London, I guess. I always crave smokes when I get drunk."

"Where'd you get it?" Katie pressed. "I know you don't smoke regularly, and you better not start - I swear, if you bought a pack -

"Yeah, I know - sorry, Katie, smoking's a terrible habit and all that... it's just, I saw it in the bathroom dispenser," she lied.

"Hmph. You better throw it out, or I will for you... had us worried there for a second, thought you'd gone off to be sick or something."

"Sorry, yeah, I'm feeling loads better." It was true. The world had stopped spinning, and now she just felt... empty.

"We can tell," Angelina remarked wryly. "No more green smoke. I swear, I'm going to kill those idiots -

"Which ones?" Katie muttered.

"All of them. Fucking Davies, Montague, the whole lot of them. Men. Good for nothing."

"Oi, we're sitting right here!" Fred exclaimed.

Alicia turned her head away from her friends, sensing the burn of a stare upon her. Instinctively, she glanced over towards the little corridor by the bar where the bathrooms were. Cassius had returned, though when she caught his eyes, he frowned at her but didn't look away. She shifted her gaze elsewhere, and landed on the three Ravenclaw boys who were still sitting at the bar, Carson Bishop waving her over with a friendly smile.

Alicia stood.

"And where do you think you're going now?" said Angelina with a disapproving look.

Alicia rolled her eyes.

"I'm better now, mommy. I'm over to see Carson -

"Oh no you don't," the girls chimed firmly.

"Oh, relax," Alicia grumbled, "I won't be doing another one of _those_ for awhile yet. Anyway, I could do with a glass of water." She slid out of the booth despite her friends' protests, and walked over towards the bar. Cassius brushed past her without a word, though she could see a storm brewing in his eyes. She felt his gaze following her like lasers in her back. She held her head high, ignoring Montague and Pucey's insults as she passed their table.

"Hey, you feeling okay? We just wanted to make sure - well, we saw what was going on with Montague and his lot," said Carson with an apologetic smile.

_So what, you didn't feel like coming over_?

"It's alright," Alicia replied with a shrug.

"Yeah, Rosie's kind of mad now," said Roger, "Said I betrayed her trust and whatnot."

"Yeah, how come whenever I try to order anything she always checks my ID?" Peter complained.

"Well, I can tell your right now, it's butter beer til your birthday from here on," Roger replied.

"They didn't give you too much trouble, did they?" Carson asked, glancing over at the Slytherins.

"Er, no. I mean, nothing I can't handle. To be honest with you, I can't really remember what they said."

"I'm really sorry we didn't come over, it's just - well, you know. I kind of caught the tail end of it as your friends were dragging you away, so I figured something must have happened." Suddenly, he grinned. "You must have said something quite nasty, though, because Warrington looks like he's about to rip your throat out!"

Alicia scowled, and discreetly looked over at the Slytherins through the reflection off the bar taps. She could just make out Cassius' face, twisted into a cold sneer. Prick.

"Might have said something along the lines of they like to blow each other," Alicia admitted.

Carson laughed, and even she managed to let out a giggle.

"Well I heard Terrence Higgs sort of leans that way, which was part of the reason why they let Malfoy take his place so easily."

"Pfft, yeah, that and the bajillion galleons his father spent on redesigning their entire locker room."

Carson raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah - well, Filch made me clean out the locker rooms for detention, and yeah - looks like a bloody mansion in there, marble flooring and all."

"Hmph, yeah, that would be right up their alley. The ball's at the Flints this year, according to my mother - invites are going out tomorrow, so we'll know for sure. They're pretty big on marble flooring from what I've seen at their firm... guess they don't like things being so different from home," he said wryly.

Alicia looked at him, alarmed.

"Invites? Already?"

"Oh, well, they're late on it this year, aren't they? Normally they're out by the time school starts, but, well, I guess things have been sort of hectic everywhere, haven't they?"

Alicia felt a slight wave of panic take over her for a moment.

"Listen, Carson, do you mind if we, erm, talk in private for a moment?"

He looked at her, surprised.

"Er, yeah. Okay, sure..."

She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him down the little corridor with the bathrooms and the door to the alleyway.

"Outside? Really?" he said, looking amused.

"It's... very private," she said quickly, shoving him out the door.

She leaned against the metal door, shutting it behind her.

"So... what's up? You want to back out?"

"No! No, nothing like that. Well. I mean, sort of. Well, er, more like you're the one who's probably going to be backing out - erm... yeah..."

Alicia shoved her hands into her pockets and looked at him awkwardly.

"Why would I want to back out?"

Alicia shrugged.

"It's - well, I might as well tell you, since everyone will know by tomorrow... I just wanted to tell you in person - erm... I dunno. Er, you do know that I'm a half-blood, right?"

He frowned. "Alicia, you do know that I don't give a shit about that sort of thing, right? If that's what's got you worried -

"No! Of course not, I know you're not like that. It's - it's just that, my mum - well, I'm... er, sort of a bastard. Er... and I mean that literally. My mum's... er, well, she's - her name is Aurora DeWitt, and I suppose tomorrow when everybody finds out who I am, there's going to be a bit of a... a scandal. I mean, at least, that what my grandmother keeps saying, even though she's the one who's sponsoring me - well, my grandfather is, really, he's the one with all the money, I suppose - and - and, am I talking too quickly? I know it's a bit much - obviously, I understand if you don't want to be seen with me at the ball -

"Alicia. Shut up," said Carson lightly. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye. "I don't care. Other people might, but as far as I'm concerned, you're a good friend and a good person. Yeah, it'll be a bit of a scandal, but so what? Everything's a scandal at those sort of events. Trust me, you being a bastard - and I use the term lightly - isn't even at the top of the list of things that have happened over the years... I mean, there've been elopements and kidnappings -

"Kidnappings?" Alicia exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah, well I mean ages ago, and you're definitely not the only person who's been in this position. Obviously people will be watching you a bit closely, and all the Slytherins and their sort will definitely give you the cut, but as long as you keep your head straight, you should be fine. Anyhow, DeWitt's a big name... if you're the DeWitt heir, then a lot of people will be looking to make sure you don't sink, so to speak..."

Alicia groaned.

"I knew I should've paid attention to all those lessons."

"Yeah, well... if you want, we can practice all the dances, and I'm sure Angelina and Katie can help you with etiquette and whatnot."

"Great. How fun. And why would people care if I'm the DeWitt heir? Which, by the way, I don't even think I am -

"Oh, you are," Carson assured her. "You have to be... haven't you started on your History of Magic Readings yet?"

Alicia shrugged sheepishly.

"Tsk, tsk, Alicia," he teased. "Well, I'll give you a little summary. You have to be the heir because of blood magic - everything is passed down through a combination of blood magic and through wills. If there aren't any direct descendants, then a will takes precedence when it comes to inheritance, although I can tell you right now people have been in and out of court for years, contesting wills that put estates and whatnot into the hands of non-blood relations."

"Hmph. No wonder they're putting me up to this, then..."

"Oh, yeah, well you know what they say... networking is everything... but, er, if that's all you were worried about, then let's go in, cause I'm getting bloody cold out here!"

* * *

Cassius was properly wasted by ten o'clock in the evening. His housemates, as well as a handful of people (mostly girls) from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, had ensured that his sour mood was alleviated by piling him with drinks, and even the occasional hit off a joint. Snape had been curiously absent, though he tended to turn a blind eye to birthday parties and to quidditch parties as long as things didn't get too rowdy.

"Oi, Cash," Montague shouted over the blaring music, "We couldn't get you a stripper, but we got you the next best thing!"

"Wassat?" Cassius slurred, stumbling his way over to Montague.

"C'mon, then, we got you a bit of a gift!"

Even in his drunken state, Cassius eyed his best friend suspiciously.

"If it's another -

"Watch your step, and no, I promise, you'll actually like what we've got for you this year."

Pucey stood at by the stairwell to help Montague drag Cassius down the stairs to their dorm. Pucey rapped on the door, and it swung open. Cassius peered in. Six girls stood in a row, one by each bed, each scantily clad in a variety of different uniforms; two Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs and two Slytherins, all dressed as slutty variations of maids and fairies and the like.

"Where are the Gryffs?" Cassius asked, and Montague and Pucey burst into laughter.

"What a joker, good to see you've got your humour back, mate! Now have fun! These ladies have promised to do _anything_ you want. See in the morning, mate!"

The door slammed shut, leaving Cassius in the dimly lit room with six of Hogwarts' sexiest, sluttiest girls.

"Oi, don't you have a boyfriend?"

* * *

**PS**

**I've been thinking about changing ratings to M but obviously I don't want to alienate anybody reading this... How do you guys feel about this?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Updates will probably be slower from here on... I'm unfortunately back in school now. But thanks to all of you who took the time to review, I really appreciate it. S/O to Guest, Stromsten, Lissa and Guest! I'm glad you guys love this story so much!**

**As for the rating issue, I've never really written explicit scenes before, but I'm not against it (though I won't promise quality lol). Again, maybe some more ideas on this? **

* * *

"Pucey."

The blonde-haired boy turned around, eyes searching for the owner of the voice that had called out his name. He frowned. Spinnet.

"What do you want, Spinnet? Or should I say DeWitt? Soliciting donations for your gown, then?" he sneered sarcastically as the girl approached him. Alicia felt her lips curl in disgust but refrained from pulling out her wand. So. The invites had gone out, then.

"Where's Warrington?" she spat, crossing her arms in irritation.

Pucey smirked. "Why? Hoping he'll pay you for some birthday sex? You must be desperate. Sadly, you're a bit late - here, I've a sickle for you right now if you blow me -

Alicia whipped out her wand, but Pucey grabbed her by the wrist, clutching it tightly to the point of pain. Alicia stomped her foot down over his and wrenched her self out of his grasp.

"_Fernunculus_!" Alicia hissed, pointing her wand at Pucey's groin. He let out a shriek and dropped to the floor, clutching himself and writhing in pain. Alicia smiled grimly as boils started to appear on his visible skin, fat and red with bulging white points that pulsed but refused to pop.

She ran down the corridor, away from the scene of the crime, glancing back to make sure nobody was chasing her, and collided face-first into somebody.

It was Cassius, who looked like he'd just crawled out of a graveyard. His face was drawn and ashen, his eyes bloodshot, and his lips cracked and dry. His face shut down into a hard sneer when he realized who she was, and Alicia pushed herself away from him.

"I've been sending you owls all bloody day," she said loudly over Pucey's continued shrieks.

"What did you do," he said in a rough voice, shoving her aside to run towards Pucey's prone figure.

"_Episkey_," he said quickly, pointing his wand at Pucey. The boils didn't disappear, but the redness quickly faded, and Pucey's shrieks died down. Weakly, he crawled onto his knees, then onto his feet.

"I'm going to kill you," he snarled, lunging towards Alicia. She ducked, and Cassius pushed her out of the way.

"Forget her," Cassius growled, "You need to get to the Hospital Wing before the charm fades."

"I don't give a shit if she's your partner or not," Pucey hissed, but he winced in pain when he tried to grab a hold his wand, due to the pressure it put on the boils that covered his hands.

"You can hex her all you want when you get out of the Hospital," Cassius barked. "And you, you can fuck off, Spinnet, you've done enough."

"I've been looking for you all day!"

"Congratulations, you found me. Now leave."

* * *

After escorting a bitter, complaining Pucey to the hospital wing, Cassius slowly made his way over to the library, still fighting off a headache and remnants of nausea.

When he'd woken up that afternoon with a splitting headache and a rolling stomach, the six girls had already vanished, replaced by his roommates and their own conquests, all in various states of undress, passed out on their respective beds, curtains semi-shut or even wide open.

He spent the day in bed, his own curtains drawn, moaning in pain, until he'd forced himself to crawl to the kitchens, dying of hunger for having missed all three meals of the day. It was on his way back to the common room that he'd heard the ghastly screaming, and then Spinnet had barrelled head-first into his chest, causing his stomach to momentarily heave before he managed to keep himself under control.

The library was busier than usual, with students working hard to catch up on work they'd neglected due to the previous day's Hogsmeade trip. Cassius navigated his way over to "Spinnet's desk", breathing slowly and deeply to calm his headache. He felt his heartbeat speed up, however, and his headache reach a pulsing max, when, as her desk came into sight, he saw that she was not alone. Her head was bent over a book, avidly copying down notes, but there was somebody sitting across from her, back to Cassius. He clenched his fists. Bishop.

He strolled over to the desk, forcing himself to calm down.

"Well, well, aren't we cozy here," he sneered softly, dropping his book bag on the floor next to the desk. "You can leave now, Bishop, Spinnet and I have work to get done."

Alicia opened her mouth to protest, but Carson beat her to it.

"Don't worry about it, Warrington," he said easily, leaning back in his chair, "She's already done all the work without you, we've been here all day until she decided to go looking for your ass... we can't all be Outstanding students, after all."

If looks could kill, Alicia imagined Carson would have dropped dead on the spot. Warrington's eyes flashed dangerously, though his face was a stony impassive mask - always a bad sign, Alicia had learned.

She flinched. How did she know that?

"Bishop, I'm going to give you three seconds to pack your things before I send you packing," he said coldly in an even tone, not a hint of anger in his voice, though one look in his eyes betrayed his brewing irritation.

Alicia pursed her lips, and Carson looked at her with a serious expression on his face.

"Alicia, do you want me to go? We can go work somewhere else if you want -

"Three -

"Er, thanks for your help, Carson - you're right, I'm nearly done. But maybe I should look over it with Warrington, it's his assignment too -

"Two -

"Are you sure? Don't let him bully you -

Alicia smiled warmly at him.

"I'm almost insulted, when do I ever let anyone bully me?"

"One -

Carson stood, pushing back the chair, and turned to glare at Warrington.

"Guys," Alicia whispered, glancing around to make sure Pince wasn't around. She stepped in between the boys, out of fear they might start throttling each other.

"I really appreciate all the help, Carson. You've been great. I'm your girl if you ever need anything, yeah?"

"Yeah, no problem, 'Licia, any time. Let me know if you have any more questions, or if you've any problems," he said, eying Cassius angrily. "Oh, and let me know when you're free - there's a couple empty classrooms big enough to practice dancing in. I promise, you'll be ready in no time."

Alicia nodded and gave him a quick hug.

"Thanks, you're the best. I'll see you tomorrow, then? And tell Peter I hope he's stopped puking by now!"

"Yeah, good luck with the report!"

"Fairy," Cassius hissed, as Carson grabbed his things and disappeared. It'd taken all his will and patience not to curse the prick, while he'd chatted away with Spinnet over what - dancing? And she'd hugged him, and smiled at him, and showered him in stupid compliments. "Shagging him for help, then?" Cassius asked sourly, sitting down on Bishop's still-warm seat. His scowl deepened. Alicia glared at him, offended.

"I'm not a whore, Warrington," she snapped, "Although I can see why you might think that, considering you apparently don't know any girls who are otherwise."

"That's funny," he said darkly, "I could have sworn you dragged him to the alley yesterday, and didn't he come back in, looking all self-satisfied."

"Jealous, are we?" she said mockingly. "You disgust me. Carson is nice, unlike you, and he helps me because he's a friend -

Cassius scoffed in disbelief.

"-He's a friend," Alicia repeated, "Who actually cares about people and their well-being. And for your information, not that it's any of your business, I didn't 'drag' him to the alley to shag him, though I'm not even going to ask why you were watching us in the first place -

"Don't flatter yourself, Spinnet," he spat, "It's just hard not to notice -

"Shut up, Warrington. Just shut up. I don't even know why I'm telling you any of this. Let's just get to work. Carson and I -

"_Carson and I_," Cassius sneered. "Why don't you just work with him, then, seems like he's already done most of it for you. Did he tie your shoes for you too? And what's this bollocks about dancing? Don't tell me that's some euphemism -

"Ooh, big words there, Warrington. Like I said, it's none of your business what Carson and I get up to in our free time -

Cassius saw red. He wasn't sure what did it, but he had a feeling it was those three words, _Carson and I, _which made him want to gag.

"Like hell it isn't," he hissed in a rage.

She glared at him, eyes narrowed to slits.

"_You _don't have any say in what I do with my life or who I do it with. Why the hell are you here, anyway? Correct me if I'm wrong, but _you're _the one who said, and I quote, 'we haven't spoken in what, two weeks? It's been fucking amazing. Let's keep this up.' I agree, _Warrington_, it's been fucking amazing. _Carson_ and I have already done most of _your _work while you were obviously recovering from whatever birthday bullshit you got up to last night."

She stood and shoved her work towards him.

"You can correct it and send it to me, though I highly doubt there's anything to correct. We can't all be Outstanding students after all."

She gave him a derogatory smile, the sort of look she usually reserved for Montague or for Bletchley, or for high-intensity quidditch matches, and stalked off with her book bag and robes. Cassius felt his blood boil. He shoved his seat back and stood hastily onto his feet, and in three quick strides he caught up with Alicia's scampering figure. He reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. She whirled around, her hair whipping him in the face as she did so, causing him to flinch as a few strands got into his eyes. She held her wand out menacingly.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, furious at the hot, angry sting of tears that sprang out of nowhere. She blinked them back. "Don't ever touch me again, Warrington, or I swear to God, you'll regret it. I hate you. I fucking hate you."

"Calm down," he said gruffly, loathing the sound of his own voice and the way she looked at him, shaking with anger, eyes wide with tears that had yet to fall.

"Fuck you," she gasped in a choking voice. "And don't tell me to calm down, I _am_ bloody calm." She brushed at her eyes with the back of her hand, and cursed as she felt her mascara smear.

"_Lisso_," he muttered, lazily flicking his wand at her face.

"You must have a lot of practice at that," she choked sarcastically.

"Put you wand away, Alicia," he said warily, pocketing his own.

"You have no right to call me that," she said, sniffing angrily.

He gave her a mocking smile.

"What, then, shall I call you? DeWitt?"

Her eyes flashed angrily.

"I hate you," she hissed.

"So you've said. Start walking, Spinnet. I can't work in here."

She looked at him like he was stupid.

"You can't possibly think I actually want to work with you after -

"Look, I've got a headache enough as it is. If you've already done most of the work, let me just look it over and then that's it. Done. I'll do it all on my own next time, if that makes you feel better, alright? Yeah, I got a little fucked up last night. It was my birthday. Curse me."

She looked at him in disbelief. _That_ was his idea of an apology? She could have laughed had she not been so upset. She settled with another bitter "I hate you", to which he responded with an apathetic shrug.

"Where are we going?" she muttered, breaking the silence as they left the library.

"It's a 'we' now, is it?" he asked sarcastically.

"Shut up."

"But I thought you hated me?" he said in a mocking voice.

"I do hate you," she said, sounding suddenly exhausted.

They fell silent again as they walked down the corridors until suddenly, he asked her, "What was all that bollocks about dancing then?"

She looked at him like she he was stupid, but Cassius simply stared back at her, unwilling to embarrass himself. It seemed like his mouth did a lot of its own voluntary talking these days. "Just asking... always thought Bishop was a bit of a fairy -

"He's not a fairy!"

"_I promise, you'll be ready in no time_!" he said in a high-pitched voice.

"Is that supposed to be Carson, because you realize he doesn't sound like that at all, and he's not a bloody fairy."

"Right. Well if you're not shagging him, and if he's not a fairy -

"Oh, fuck off! It's none of your business, anyway. Stop asking me questions. And where the hell are we going? I thought you were just going to read it over - honestly, not that you even need to, Carson's looked over it a thousand times -

"Merlin, will you shut it about _Carson_? If I hear that name one more time -

"You'll what?"

"I promise you, I'll throw him off his broom next match," he said coldly, and Alicia somehow knew that he wasn't exaggerating.

"Well then," she said crossly, "Stop asking me about my personal life."

"Oh, so then it's personal, is it?"

"_You're _the one who just said you didn't want to hear anything else -

"_All_ I asked was what this whole dancing rubbish -

"Why?" Alicia snapped. "What the hell is wrong with you? _Why_ do you want to know about my life? One second you're all 'I want to fuck you Spinnet', and the next, you're all 'Don't talk to me, Spinnet' - What. Is. Your. Problem? Here's a newsflash for you, _Warrington. _You. Have. No. Right. You know what, I don't even know why I'm following you right now. Read it on your own. There isn't much left to do. I'm sure you've figured out how to spell your name by now."

He looked at her coolly, ignoring the unpleasant twinge he felt with every word, quite aware of that fact that he shouldn't have cared for a word she said. Her eyes were wild with anger and confusion, her cheeks flushed, and he wondered bitterly why she'd so rudely barged in on his life.

"Is he taking you to the ball, then?" he finally asked, in a toneless voice, already fearing the answer, to which she gave him a small, silent nod. He ran his hand through his hair, liking the gentle tug on his scalp, which temporarily eased his frustration.

"Right. And you can't dance, I take it."

"I can dance fine. Sort of," she said stiffly. "He's just offered to practice with me." She laughed, and it sounded dark and hollow. "Why do you care, Warrington?"

"I don't," he said, and even to him, his voice rang false. She laughed again, and he hated the sound, the coldness of it, the bitterness. It was nothing like how she sounded with her friends, or even with Bishop. _Carson_. He gritted his teeth in disgust. "Just saying... he'll want a shag, then, if he's offered you dance lessons - can't imagine why he'd offer other wise."

"Is that all it is with you, then? Excuse me, of course it is, how silly of me... No-Romance-Warrington. Again, not that it's any of your bloody business, but he has a girlfriend. If he wants to help me not embarrass myself and make an utter travesty of the divine Dewitt name, it's because he's my friend and a good person, two things which you obviously are not."

"You don't know anything about me," Cassius spat, clenching his fists in anger, "So don't climb up on your high horse and trot out all this rubbish about how good or bad I am. You don't know anything. You're ignorant, you're hardheaded, and you're a fucking hypocrite if I ever saw one -

"Oh, that's rich of you," she gasped, "_You're_ the one who came after me, _you're _the one who went on about how _fantastic_ it was not having anything to do with each other -

"And what? Did I threaten you? Did I hold my wand up to your head and order you about? Last I checked, _you're_ the one who's made all the decisions here, so don't try to push this all off on me. I didn't force you to kiss me, I didn't force you to sleep in my dorm, and I sure as hell didn't force you to follow me about right now. Go back to your dorm, Spinnet, you and I both know I can finish this up on my own. You're right, I'm pretty sure I've figured out how to spell my name by now."

They walked in tense, angry silence, though neither made any efforts to separate. Cassius found his feet directing him on a now-familiar path towards the Slytherin stadium entrance, and Alicia simply followed him, head vacant, chest tight, and unwilling to let the argument end as it had.

Outside, it was another chilly, windy night. October had come and they could hear the rustling of the trees in the distance. The Hufflepuff team was just finishing up their practice, and they watched quietly as the seven players filed into their locker room, oblivious to their newly arrived audience.

It was the first time Alicia and Cassius had seen the team in full formation in over a year, for the Triwizard Tournament had taken place the previous year, and Quidditch had been cancelled. Alicia realized with a sudden strangeness that Cedric Diggory's lanky frame was missing from the ranks. He would have graduated, gone by now anyhow, but it was still strange nevertheless. He would never fly a broom, catch a snitch or walk the earth again. She imagined having to practice without Angelina or Katie, the twins, or even Harry and Ron. It made her stomach clench in anxiety.

She blinked when a little blue flame suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and Cassius handed her a small glass jar that exuded warmth.

"Cigarette?" he said tonelessly, as he lit one with a silver lighter, inhaling sharply as the tip suddenly glowed red. Alicia nodded, feeling numb. He passed her the pack - _Chasers_ - and his silver lighter. He pulled out a flask from his robes, unscrewed it and took a painful looking gulp before offering it to her. She stared down at it, and accepted it just as gingerly.

Sitting there next to him in the cold, smoking silently and taking occasional horrid sips from his flask, Alicia thought about her parents. In that moment, she could picture it clearly, her mother still the same, though younger, with her long, wavy dark hair and her red lips, cigarette dangling from her mouth as she wandered about muggle London, having escaped from Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron, searching for somebody with a lighter. And her father, she imagined him sitting on the steps in front of the pub, unchanged even after all these years (a little pudgier now, perhaps), with Uncle Slink and Uncle Shifty, lighting a smoke just as Aurora would have turned the corner, looking lost and terribly posh in a knee-length navy dress and little leather boots, sauntering up to the three of them with a brave, wicked smile on her face.

"When did you become such a lush?" she asked suddenly, for it seemed strange to her that Cassius carried a flask of fire whiskey about with him.

"When I met you," Cassius grunted. He looked at her and she was shivering, though she didn't seem to mind the cold apart from it. He glanced downward, and through the part in her robes, he could see that she was wearing her stupid school skirt (too short by four years, Pucey's voice reminded him), without tights on.

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were a muggle," he muttered, casting a warming charm over her robes. She looked at him, offended, though she stopped shivering after a few seconds and curled her legs up against her chest to get full coverage from her warmed robes. The glow from the bluebell flames made her look like a strange child.

"I hate you," she said suddenly, though without any animosity. Cassius tipped his flask to his lips.

"So we've established."

"No. Really, I do. I don't understand you. I don't understand how you can be - so... nice, I guess is the closest thing I can think of - and then a complete and utter prat in the blink of an eye."

Cassius shut his eyes, breathing in the cool air.

"Your problem, Spinnet, is that you're always asking yourself these stupid questions. Don't you ever just... shut down?"

"No. No, I can't."

"Well then... you should probably work on that." He took a last puff from his cigarette and put it out under the heel of his foot.

"And is that working out well for you?" she demanded.

He scowled at her. Questions, always questions. Was it working out for him? He thought about it and concluded that yes, for the most part, it was. Logic was his friend. Losing one's head to whims and madness was entirely a Gryffindor trait... Only, the past month had proven to him time and again that he'd developed a weakness where Spinnet was concerned, and it was worrisome, as though her... gryffindorness was catching.

In fact, he feared it, and Cassius had never quite feared anything before. He'd felt worry, to some degree, but never fear. And right now, he feared. He feared how she could turn him into a raging beast, how the memory of her naked form in the Gryffindor locker room could reduce him to a panting thirteen-year-old, how he felt his blood boil when she laughed and smiled so openly with Bishop (even though the prick had a girlfriend, supposedly), he feared what might happen if anybody were to discover his infatuation, especially his father, and more importantly, he feared what it all meant.

Did she feel the same? It was the first time the question came up in his mind, and he frowned. Questions. Spinnet and her stupid questions. It was affecting his mind. But did she? He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was still huddled up under her robes, chin tucked over her knees, but she'd turned so that her back to him to get more foot support from the bleachers. What was she thinking about? Why had she followed him out here? Why had she allowed him to touch her? Why had she slept with him when they both knew she could have made it back to Gryffindor tower alone? Why hadn't she opted for the risk of detention like a normal Gryffindor, instead of sneaking into his common room? Had she trusted him not to make a move that night? Or had she perhaps wanted him to make a move?

"We should be getting back," he muttered, standing up to stretch his back. She stood up, her back to him still, and she looked up into the sky. Her hood fell back, revealing her soft, round, unsmiling face under the glow of the full moon.

He reached out for her with an almost instinctive motion that he found to be mentally unhinging. She flinched under his grasp, but she turned around nevertheless.

"Don't," she breathed, and he could see the wisps of vapour from her breath.

"Don't what?"

She smelled like Ogden's and cigarettes, and he found it disturbing that he couldn't smell Her through the fog of it. He pulled her towards him, and slowly leaned down to bury his face into the crook of her neck, burrowing himself into her hair. He breathed in. There she was, that soft sweet smell that made his blood rush to his head. She shivered under him, and he tightened his grip on her as though afraid she'd disappear. He kissed her neck, nibbling her skin, unable to help himself from taking a small bite. She let out a moan, and he slid one hand into her hair so that he could see her face. She stared at him, wide-eyed like a unicorn fawn, and trembling just as much.

"Don't, Cassius," she said, and he hated it, hated, hated, hated how gentle his name sounded when she said it. He kissed her, and they were both unhappy for it, but unable to stop.

Alicia was horrified by her inability to pull away, and by the familiarity of his taste, even under the mask of Ogden's and smoke. His hands had pulled open her robes and he'd drawn her up against him, as his cold hands worked their way up under her shirt, causing her to break out into goosebumps as he feverishly nibbled his way down her jaw to her collarbones.

"What do you want, Alicia?" he whispered hoarsely, tugging gently on her hair so that her head was cocked back, forcing her to look up at him. She let out an involuntary moan, and his face broke out into a wicked grin. "You like that?" he said coarsely, giving her hair another gentle tug. Another choked moan. He felt a rush of blood descend to his groin. Suddenly, he slowly pushed her forwards, still holding her gently by the hair, so that she had to brace herself against the bleachers with her hands.

Alicia had never felt so... so... so what? She couldn't put a word to it, but her heart beat loudly, strongly, so much so that she feared she would choke on it, and her legs trembled in anticipation (for what?), and for some reason the usual flush of embarrassment hadn't come. Maybe it was the whiskey (it was definitely the whiskey) or maybe it was the cold (doubtful), but something made her shiver in excitement, made her feel downright... wicked. She felt one of Cassius' hands snake around her front, sliding under her robes and coming to a firm rest on the small of her back as he pressed himself up against her. He leaned forward, and whispered into her ear, "Bend your back - like that - fuck, you like that, Alicia?" He ran his hand down over her skirt until he reached her bare skin. "Keep your back bent," he said, sounding stricter than he'd meant to. But she obeyed, bent her back in and tilted her hips up into his hands without hesitation. _Merlin's fucking balls_, the girl actually obeyed.

She let out a squeal of surprise as his hand suddenly laid down a sharp slap over her ass. He couldn't help it, hadn't even thought about it; the second his hand had slid up under her skirt and he'd discovered with pleasure and great surprise the hot smoothness of her naked skin against his palms instead of the fabric he'd been expecting, something in him had snapped. He was hard against her, and Alicia rocked back against him from the shocking impact of his hand, the sharp sound of his callused palm meeting her own soft skin still ringing in her ears. He let out a half-moan, half grunt as a low hum of shock and delight escaped from her lips. "Like that, did you, you dirty girl?" he said in an amused voice, pulling her upright against him, gripping her tightly enough to leave marks, back against his chest. She felt a full-blown blush rise to her face as she realized what had just occurred. She wasn't _that _drunk. "Where are your knickers then?" he murmured into her ear, fingers caressing her thigh through the gap in her robes. She didn't reply, too distracted by his wandering hand, too distracted by the tingling, rushing of her blood, his warmth, his smell, the stiffness that pressed against her bottom despite his pants, her robes and her skirt in between them. He forced himself to calm his erratic heartbeat as he slowly let his fingers trail up, up, up to where it mattered most. He let out a harsh breath when his hand brushed against the cool _damp_ satin of what was evidently a thong. His fingers trailed back down in semi-disappointment. If only she'd been naked under there like he'd thought... but then what? Then they would have fucked, and then he would be even more lost than he already was. This was a dangerous game he was playing, and he hadn't yet figured out the rules. Or rather, he hadn't yet figured out how to circumvent them.

"I can't believe you spanked me," she said, staring off towards the goal posts at the opposite end of the stadium, after his hand had drifted away and his grip on her loosened, replaced by a heavy silence. Alicia wasn't sure if she was disappointed he hadn't continued his explorations, or relieved.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked curiously, his chin resting on her head.

"No," she whispered, unhappy at her own truthfulness. "No, I - nobody's ever done that before," she admitted. He raised an eyebrow.

"Well they're missing out," he said seriously, though with a glint of humour in his voice. "You have a great ass, Spinnet."

"Back to Spinnet, then, Warrington?" she said ruefully, detangling herself from his grasp.

"You'll always be Spinnet," he said, his voice suddenly curt, picking up the jar of bluebell flames as well as her book bag, which he handed to her. The moment had ended, but - well, not badly. All quiet on the front. For now. He picked up his own bag, then looked around to make sure he'd left nothing behind. He caught a glimpse of his pack of _Chasers _on the floor. He didn't bother to pick them up.

"I don't really hate you," she said suddenly, as they made their way indoors.

"Don't let anyone hear you say that," he said seriously, turning to look her in the eye.

"Right. Warrington. I hate your guts," she said as tonelessly as she could, mimicking the blank expression on his face.

He shut his eyes. His migraine had come back, tenfold. Punishment, it was punishment for drinking again and so soon, for sitting out in the cold, for engaging in illicit activities with somebody with whom he shouldn't have been on a first-name basis. She sped up so that she was walking ahead of him, steps light and quick as she hurried down the corridor.

"Alicia. Spinnet. Spinnet!" _For fuck's sake_, he reprimanded himself, _her name is Spinnet_. Spinnet.

"What?" she said without turning around.

"Don't hang out with Bishop anymore," he said, unable to come up with anything better to say.

She laughed sarcastically, stopping to look at him, and he felt like a fool.

"And why not? What did I tell you about my personal life?" she said, her voice on edge.

"Who said anything about your personal life?" he snapped. "I meant for the assignment. It's only going to get more complicated. And we're going to have to start getting together once we have to start applying Arithmancy. And - fuck Bishop, _I'm_ your partner, for all you know he's bloody sabotaging us. Wouldn't put it past him, bloody Ravenclaw prick."

"In fact," he muttered, "Just... fuck Bishop."

"Cassius," she said softly, because she knew he wasn't freaking out about the assignment. "Just leave it alone."

He felt himself tense, because she was right, and because he was angry. He was angry because he wanted a say in her life, some sort of control over just who she laughed with and smiled with and danced with; he was angry because of the way she murmured _Cassius_ with none of the disgust with which she spit out _Warrington_ like gum to be stepped on in the street; and mostly, he was angry because he was angry.

He inhaled sharply and drew himself up to his full height. She was a tiny thing, all soft and round where he was hard planes and edges. It made his stomach churn to see her look up at him with her big eyes, baring all her emotions for the world to see as though there weren't snakes slithering around waiting to bite at any sign of weakness.

He could crush her right now for the way she was looking at him. She shouldn't have been looking at him like that. Those eyes weren't meant to look at him with softness, so pleadingly. Pleading for what? Those eyes should have been narrowed to slits, glinting with disgust and with loathing. That wasn't Spinnet staring up at him, that was _Alicia_. This was the girl who joked with her friends and who lavished them with hugs and laughter. This was not the girl who could take a hit on the pitch and knock a bloke where it hurt for being in her way. This was not the girl who knew so many hexes it was scary. It was like peeking through a keyhole and seeing something forbidden, yet here she was staring at him, out in the open for all to see. Anybody could pass by and see her looking at him like that, feel the tension thick in the air.

"Curfew!" somebody's voice reverberated from a distance, pulling him back into reality.

"We're not friends, Spinnet," Cassius said finally, urgently, pretending that her wide eyes weren't burning holes into his face, because she needed to understand. "We are not friends," he repeated again, more firmly, though he secretly wondered if it was for her benefit or for his that he did so. She gave him a strange smile that made him uneasy.

"No, we're not, are we?" she mused.

No. No _we_. There was no _we_. Not here, not in this corridor, where they could hear prefects ushering straggling students to their common rooms, over loud complaints and the sounds of stomping feet. Here, in this corridor, it was Spinnet and Warrington, Gryffindor and Slytherin, enemies, reluctant partners, rivals. Here, in this damnably public corridor, Cassius could not reach out and pull her up against him, he could not bury his face into the crook of her neck and breathe in the soft, sweet smell of her skin, he could not push her up against the wall and run his hand over her plush behind, whispering filth into her ear as she squirmed up against him as he would have liked.

She was walking away now, shrugging off her robes to reveal that damned skirt, and all he could think was that not even half an hour ago, she'd been bent over for him in the Slytherin stands, back arched under his hand, as he'd laid down a firm smack on that ass of hers. She was walking away from him now, no longer Alicia, but Spinnet, Spinnet who laughed with her friends and threw jinxes and insults at her enemies with the same well-timed precision she was known for in quidditch.

Cassius breathed deeply, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his robes, his fingers searching, brushing the cool metal of his grandfather's flask, until he remembered that he'd left his pack of _Chasers_ behind in the stands, just like they'd left behind Cassius and Alicia.

* * *

**Reviews? **

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** community/Chasers-Overcoming-Rivlary-Gryffindor-Slytherin/33416/**

**Basically it's a compilation of as many Alicia-Warrington; Katie-Marcus; Angelina-Montague fics that I've been able to find, if you guys are interested. **

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	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks again to Amretta :) Only one review guys? Did the last chapter suck that badly? Constructive criticism is definitely welcome... Anyway, I had a LOT of trouble with this chapter, like I'm talking several rewrites. Hope it isn't too bad. Read and REVIEW!**

* * *

"You knew about it, didn't you?" Alicia hissed, as she made her way over to the back corner of the Advanced Arithmancy class where Cassius was seated, chair tilted against the wall, with a bored expression on his face.

It was all anyone had been talking about, Umbridge's Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four which had been posted that morning in all the common rooms and corridors, informing the students that all organizations had been banned if they weren't granted personal permission by Umbridge.

The Gryffindor team had woken up for their usual morning practice, only to be confronted by the terrible news, and Angelina's attempt at having their team reinstated had failed. She'd come storming into the Great Hall five minutes after the Slytherin team (late as usual themselves, hair still damp from their post-run showers), her face a twisted expression of rage and unhappiness. Umbridge had refused, for she said a "thorough background check on all team members" was required before a final decision could be made.

Alicia didn't like the idea of Umbridge delving around in her private life. She'd had enough as it is of the knowing smirks and the surprised glances of her fellow seventh years who were coming out with her. Nobody but the Slytherins had said anything to her face - they'd taken to calling her DeWitt, some of them - but for the most part, the matter did not seem to be as big a deal as Alicia had anticipated, for which she was thankful. As they'd practiced the waltz in an empty classroom, Carson had gloated about his correct assessment of the situation, for he'd predicted that most of the students wouldn't care about her parentage - they had bigger things to worry about, with a small percentage of them already associated with rumours of potential engagements. Engagements! Alicia had nearly thrown up at the word. Rumour had it that Adrian Pucey's parents were looking to shackle him up with one of Marcus Flint's half-sisters, due to a certain recent loss of fortune. In sum, Alicia was wary of the fact that everybody in the esteemed Circle Society seemed to know the who's and what's of all the other members and former members, that she was doubly worried about Umbridge taking an interest in her personal life (not the there was much to it). It wasn't fair that the Gryffindors had to undergo such a violation of their privacy, while the Slytherins, as Cassius was doing now, sat back with their hands locked behind their heads, looking bored with life.

And so, when Professor Vector ordered everybody to get into their groups and to pull out their work - a spot check, a bleeding spot check of all things! - Alicia stormed over to Cassius' little corner of the classroom, already irritated with life, and was only further provoked by his amused smirk in response to her question, thereby confirming her suspicions that the Slytherins had indeed been given a heads-up about Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four.

She sat next to him in silence, arms crossed over her chest as they waited for Professor Vector to make her way over to the back of the class. The tall, stern witch took her time with the groups, speaking in a clear voice to ensure that the others could hear how their classmates were progressing. Alicia and Cassius hadn't been alone together since the Bleacher Incident (Alicia had lost track of which Incident number they were now at), and thus hadn't progressed much beyond whatever Cassius had corrected before they handed in their summary report to Professor Babbling on Monday in Ancient Runes.

When Professor Vector finally arrived at their desks, Cassius pulled out a cream-coloured folder and removed several parchments that Alicia couldn't recollect having before seen. He leaned back again in his chair, though refrained from tilting it onto its back legs again, and waited for Professor Vector's comments. Alicia shot him a questioning glance, but he looked straight ahead. She frowned, and waited to hear the Professor's barrage of berates.

It never came. Instead, she hemmed and hawed, nodding her head as she read whatever it was that Cassius had given her. Finally, she slipped the parchments back into the folder and handed it back to Cassius with a small smile on her face.

"Excellent job as usual, Mr. Warrington - Miss Spinnet, I see you've benefited quite a bit from working with somebody outside of your usual hemisphere. If I may make one suggestion, however, it is that instead of trying to keep all three subject areas distinct, try combining them in a way that seems natural - history, is after all, imperative to the study of ancient runes, and I believe the connection between arithmancy and runes ought to be sufficiently clear to you both this far into your studies. There is a reason why you have all been given this project as a single entity, my dears. Now then, everybody, open your books to page one forty-seven - as you all seem to still be working on genealogy, with the exception of Mr. Warrington and Miss Spinnet here..."

* * *

"_No_ Quidditch practice," said Angelina in hollow tones when Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Common Room after dinner that night. Harry and Ron looked around, distress marring their faces, and were received with mirror expressions from the rest of the team.

"But I kept my temper!" said Harry, horrified. "I didn't say anything to her, Angelina, I swear, I-

"I know, I know," said Angelina miserably. "She just said she needed a bit of time to consider."

"Consider what?" said Ron angrily. "She's given the Slytherins permission, why not us?"

Why not us indeed, Alicia thought, equally upset. She could still picture Cassius' irritating smirk during Arithmancy. He'd only gotten more smug when Professor Vector had oh so subtly hinted at his skills, and Alicia's lack thereof. Which was nonsense, because Alicia was a bloody _good_ student, and Cassius was just a bloody prick, and it wasn't her fault that Vector had a stick up her arse and -

"Alicia!"

"What?" She looked around. Katie dropped the arm she'd been waving in front of Alicia's face.

"We were _saying_ - oh. What were we saying, again? Oh, never mind. It probably wasn't important anyway."

The girls were distracted again by the sound of projectile vomiting, followed by a tense silence, and then a deafening cheer. Fred and George had apparently finally managed to get one of their Skiving Snackboxes working, and hordes of lower year students were clamouring about, trying to get advance orders in.

"Bloody amazing, that," Alicia commented lazily. "Only wish they'd thought of it sooner, though."

"Oi, I'm Head Girl!" Angelina exclaimed. "You can't say things like that in front of me!"

Katie snorted.

"Well why don't you go do something about it then?"

"I can't," she said irritably, "They're not _technically_ doing anything wrong..." She paused, then gave them a conspiratorial grin. "Besides, they might come in handy some day!"

Alicia smirked and punched her friend in the arm.

* * *

The next day was by far the gloomiest thus far; a torrential downpour complete with howling winds forced students to stay indoors. Even Mad Montague had apparently allowed his team to forgo their usual morning practice, which was a great surprise to them all, for they would have expected him to gloat about his team's immediate reinstatement in any way possible. Instead, when Alicia entered the Great Hall, the entire Slytherin team was already at their table, guffawing loudly and shovelling impossible amounts of food into their mouths in the most refined manner she'd ever seen. Bloody gits... clearly posh, even when wolfing down food.

Cassius saw Alicia glaring at him out of the corner of his eye, and he raised his glass of juice towards her in a mock cheers. She scowled and looked away. They hadn't spoken (big surprise) since Sunday night, with the exception of Vector's forced get-together in yesterday's Arithmancy class. She'd scurried past him in the corridors all week, skirting behind taller students whenever she caught his eye. It was almost... cute.

Cassius choked on his juice, and Pucey whacked him on the back while Montague barked out words of encouragement.

Cute.

He wanted to vomit.

"Oi!" Pucey complained suddenly, "You've ruined my bloody calendar, mate!" He held up the now sopping-wet 1996 Harpies Calendar that had just been released in time for the usual madness that was Yule season. The nearly nude and very sexy image of Caprice Lenvers, the Harpies' buxom beauty of a keeper, was now soaked in grape juice.

"Oh don't be such a twat," he snapped irritably. "_Evanesco_. You're a wizard, not a bloody infant."

Pucey sniffed, and delicately turned the page to _February. _They blinked in confusion.

"What the -

All three heads turned to glance back at the Gryffindor table, eyes zeroing in on one Katie Bell, before turning back to the calendar. Pucey held up the calendar to get a better comparison.

"It's her older sister, you imbeciles," said Tatiana Silverman, who was sitting next to Pucey. "She just got married. To what's his name... the one who retired from the Falcons last year..."

Montague looked like his eyes would pop out of his head.

"Keitch? That bitch is related to Geoffrey Keitch?" he exclaimed, glancing wildly between Bell, the calendar, and Tatiana. Sure enough, the name Beatrice Keitch was written in a neat cursive at the top right corner of the page next to the scantily clad image of the beautiful chaser who they'd mistaken for Katie Bell. Pucey let out a low whistle.

"Well if that's what Bell looks like under -

"Don't even think about it," Montague growled. "Game's not even three weeks away. Put this rubbish away, I don't want to see it until we win the match. _Then_ you can go bloody wank off to Bell's _sister_ all you want."

"Disgusting," Tatiana muttered, looking unimpressed before turning back to her friends.

* * *

Alicia sat glumly in Theory of Magic next to Carson, Peter and Roger, who were excitedly discussing Ravenclaw's Quidditch team. Umbridge had approved Roger's second request for reinstatement yesterday evening. Apparently she needed more than a day to decide for the Gryffindors - Angelina hadn't heard back from the old toad, and she didn't dare approach her again for fear of annoying her into refusal.

As if her mood wasn't already sour enough, Cassius was sitting behind her, periodically kicking at the back of her chair like a particularly annoying first year. She gritted her teeth and ignored him, silently listening to the Ravenclaw boys' gleeful conversation until Professor Rashid strolled into class.

The kicking continued.

* * *

They were allowed to remain inside over break due to the downpour outside. Alicia followed the general stream of students to the first floor after Theory of Magic, chatting with the Ravenclaws while Cassius skulked silently behind them, ignoring a couple of fifth year Slytherin girls who had latched onto him like leeches at some point between the sixth and fifth floors. The mass of students ended up in an unused classroom where it seemed most of the upper years had congregated to take shelter from the rain, along with Peeves, who was causing chaos as usual.

Angelina was already there, sitting with Fred and George, and all three looked positively gleeful.

"We're good!" she squealed. "I went to McGonagall, and you know McGonagall, could have been a bloody Slytherin, I swear... anyway, I think she might have gone to Dumbledore, and well, I guess Umbridge had to give in! So, practice tonight at - Katie! Katie, get your arse over here, we've got the team back! Practice at seven tonight -

* * *

"Looks like the Gryff's are back in the game," Montague noted, glancing at the Gryffindors who were positively over the moon in their back corner of the classroom. Bell was jumping about like an idiot, ink dripping from the side of her head, as she threw whatever was in reach in Peeves' direction, while the rest of the Gryffindor team beamed like morons.

"Mm, now imagine she was jumping about like that without her jumper on. Minus the ink, mind you -

Montague whacked Pucey over the head.

"What did I tell you? We've barely three weeks until the next match. Oi, you four, listen up, this concerns you too. Starting now, I want a terror campaign on those pricks. Nothing stupid, obviously - if any of you end up in the Hospital Wing or in detention, I promise you, I will put you in St. Mungo's myself. I just want them... rattled. Especially Weasley. If we can get enough by the baby Weasel during the game, even if Potter catches the snitch, we'll have a chance. That is, as long as _you_, Miles, keep your head out of your arse and block as many goals as possible. And you two, I want bludgers on Spinnet - but do _not_ award her any penalty shots, so watch your fouls. I just want them to skim her. A lot. Make sure she takes a lot of hits - actually, this goes for all of you. That bitch has proper aim, and I want her weak - she'll be throwing all their penalties as usual, so make sure she's shaking. We'll discuss this more later. For now, like I said - terror campaign. I want them in and out of the hospital wing... minor things, obviously, but preferably enough to fuck with their training schedule. And watch out for the Twins... they've apparently perfected more of their bloody _toys. _Do _not_ eat anything anybody offers you. Do _not _leave any of your food unattended..."

Cassius tuned out the rest of Montague's speech, and let his eyes drift over to the Gryffindors. Well, he thought miserably, this was going to be interesting. Bludgers on Spinnet indeed... He gritted his teeth. Well why should he be upset about that? This was his last year too... didn't he deserve to win a game, after all these years of putting up with Flint, and now Montague and their bollocks?

"... and no permanent injuries. I want their team operating in full on the day of the match. When we win this, we're going to win because we're the damned best, not because lucky fucking Potter falls off his broom after seeing a dementor or something stupid."

* * *

The next three weeks passed by in a blur of impromptu corridor duels, hospital wing visits, Quidditch practices at all hours, and not to mention, homework. With the exception of McGonagall and Snape, the other professors who had no affiliation with either Slytherin or Gryffindor, continued to pile on the work as they came closer and closer to midterms, which were usually held the week of the Gryffindor-Slytherin match, after the game in the first week of November.

Cassius and Alicia still met once a week to get their weekly progress reports done, though they were tense, hasty, private meetings at odd hours and under great duress, in order to accommodate both their vigorous, daily practice schedules on top of everything else they had to handle. She was so behind on school work at this point that it wasn't until the night before the game that she had more an hour to spare, for Angelina wanted her team fully rested before the big day. Apparently Montague was thinking along the same veins, for it was Cassius who had approached her briefly after Ancient Studies that afternoon, suggesting a meet-up. It'd become impossible for them to talk in public, even if it was about the assignment, for the animosity between the two teams had reached a peak. Adrian Pucey had discovered a newfound hatred for Alicia ever since the boils incident, and Miles Bletchley amped up his usual loathing of her by methods even she considered low for Slytherins. Just before dinner, she'd been in the library, going over her notes, when the stupid prick had hexed her from behind in front of fourteen witnesses, causing her eyebrows to grow in so fast and thick that they'd nearly choked her to death. Bloody Snape had accused her of misfiring her own spell, and Bletchley had gotten off scot-free.

Alicia stumbled into the music room, yawning with exhaustion after dinner. For a second, she thought she had the wrong room, for somebody was sitting at the piano, playing a haunting piece that didn't suit Alicia's adrenaline-fuelled mood at all.

"Shut the door."

Cassius.

He turned around on the bench, stretching his legs out before him. Alicia noticed with a start that he wasn't wearing his uniform under his robes, but rather a pair of dark jeans and a navy blue jumper.

"Why aren't you wearing your uniform?"

"They're in the wash, if you must know, I figured I'd have everything cleaned since I'm having my quidditch kit cleaned before tomorrow," he said irritably. "Anyway, it isn't against the _rules_ to wear civilian clothes after classes."

"Hmph, well I never said it was, now did I? I don't think I even brought any... uniforms are just so much easier to be honest with you. Well, I don't suppose it really matters for you... but honestly, it's utter hell trying to decide what you want to wear for the day for us girls, when we haven't uniforms."

"Really? You're going to talk fashion _now_?" Cassius drawled.

Alicia sniffed.

"Alright, alright, here, back to business then. I've cross analyzed everything. Twice. You were right - oh, don't give me that smirk - I won't say it again. Anyway, they _are_ combination curses, so we can add unbreakable to the list of characteristics. Although, I think, and hear me out, I think I know what that last curse is..."

Alicia rifled through her bag and pulled out a copy of _Witch Weekly_ and _Fairy Fifteen_'s latest issues. Cassius raised an eyebrow.

"First fashion, and now _Fairy Fifteen_? Really? And aren't you... seventeen?"

"Oh fuck off, I read them for gags. And you'll be thanking me after this. Pass me that book... what's it called, the one with all the nasty pictures in them."

Cassius pulled out a shrunken version of _Great Wizarding Families and How they Stayed Great. _Alicia enlarged it, and the miniature book suddenly transformed into a very heavy, very thick tome. She flipped through the pages until she came to the right place. A graphic sketch of a nude witch, limbs stretched out spread-eagle by ropes that were tied to nothing filled one half of the page. A robed figure stood next to her and raised its wand, and as he did so, a bloody brand which took the shape of a coat of arms appeared on the woman's back. When the drawing lowered its arm, the brand disappeared. Underneath it was another image, this time a replica of a Renaissance era painting of a man who stared triumphantly back at her, with a woman kneeling docilely at his feet, eyes downcast, though she would occasionally look up with a blank expression on her face. On the opposite page was another painting, by the same artist, of a woman looking into a mirror, in which a man's reflection could be seen. Alicia quickly read over the text beneath the image. Just as she thought. She smiled inwardly in triumph.

"It's an emotional attachment charm. Or curse, rather," she said excitedly, flipping through _Witch Weekly _until she found the right page. She passed it to Cassius as she sat down next to him on the bench. "They're really popular right now," she explained. "You know... well, no, I suppose you don't. Just read that bollocks though."

"_Reading Your Wizard_," Cassius read aloud, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "_Does your man seem out of sorts? Is he cheating on you with that wily witch with a b from down the street? Do you think your wizard might be feeling down, but is too afraid to express himself in front of you? Well we've devised a way. With our newly patented emotional attachment charm, for a couple of hours, you can feel exactly how the wizard of your wildest dreams is feeling, like a reflection in the mirror (minus the sass, of course). _Minus the sass... What the - does that even make any sense? What the hell does that mean?"

"We're not discussing rhetoric, Cassius. What they're trying to say is that you can feel exactly how the charmed person - in this case, the _wizard of your wildest dreams__ - _feels. The charm only lasts a couple of hours. This curse is the same thing... just... creepier. And more intense. Like... for life. Just think about it... _Is he cheating on your with that wily witch - _it had to have the same purpose. I mean, you can't get everything in with one curse. The first one was for branding, the second for protection, and the third for -

" - for making sure your wife wasn't a lying slag."

Alicia scowled at him.

"Oh, that's rich. She's a slag, while _he_ can go off and shag whoever he bloody wants."

"That's the point," Cassius said smugly, "Men don't have children. Women _do_."

Alicia stood up and glared down at him.

"Of course. Can't have any _bastards_ crawling around now, can we."

Cassius let out a groan.

"Relax, would you? You know I didn't mean it like that."

"Oh no? Then tell me, what would you do if - if I dunno, if some girl told you she was pregnant with your _illegitimate _child."

"Well that would never happen, because I'm a bloody wizard -

"Well what if? Accidents happen. What if she wasn't taking any potions, what if you were drunk and you made the contraceptive charm too weak, or you screwed it up? What if?"

"Then - then there's always St. Mungo's, isn't there?"

"Exactly my point. And anyhow, what if she doesn't want to _go_ to St. Mungo's?"

Cassius crossed his arms and glared at her.

"Well that would never happen, and this is just stupid, because it would _never happen_!"

"Better watch out," said Alicia tauntingly, "As the muggles say, you've just jinxed yourself."

"Oh yeah?" said Cassius in a low voice. "Want to come here and see just how jinxed I am?"

"Go shag a banshee," Alicia replied curtly. Stupid Cassius. Warrington. Whatever. Prick. She was starting to suspect him of being bi-polar. Or two different people. Regardless of what it was, she didn't want to have anything to do with it. _Then maybe you should start by calling him Warrington_, a voice whispered mockingly in the back of her head. She scowled.

Cassius glared back at her. He could see the gears turning in her head by the changing expressions on her face. What was she thinking about? He hadn't _meant_ to insult her. Not that he cared, of course. _Right__, of course_, his inner voice repeated sarcastically. _Maybe she's thinking about Bishop_. **_He has a girlfriend. _**_So? Not at this school, he doesn't. He probably has his hands all over her arse while they're 'dancing'. **No, because Bishop's a fairy. **_

"Warrington!" Alicia barked for the second time.

Cassius looked up. _Oh, back to Warrington now. Looks like she's moved on, mate. _"Fuck off!"

Shit. Did he say that out loud? Judging by Alicia's stormy gaze, he could say it was safe to assume that yes, he _had_ just yelled at her in a not so pleasant tone.

Her lips were pursed, eyes livid.

"Right," she said in a strained voice, looking like she was restraining herself from slapping him, "See you at the match, Warrington."

Cassius debated whether or not to explain himself, but decided it would be stupid. Instead, he sat in tense silence as he watched her quickly pack her belongings whilst throwing him dirty looks. Right then. It was over. Just like that, they were back to Warrington and Spinnet proper. So why did he feel so bloody angry with himself as he watched her leave, slamming the door shut behind her like the irate teenager that she was?

* * *

The morning of the match dawned bright and cold. Alicia awoke to the blinding light of the morning sun streaming in through the window by her bed. Angelina was already up, throwing on a red sweater dress and black leggings with a thin golden belt, barking at Alicia to hurry up and get dressed.

Again, Alicia was thankful for school uniforms. She was generally a late riser, and couldn't be bothered with the hassle of having civilian clothes to have to chose from on the weekends and after class hours, and so she'd packed light this year as always - just her books and uniform, as well as accessories for days like this. She decided to charm her skirt red to show some house spirit, then put on a golden grecian headband that shimmered against her dark hair. There. Done.

The Great Hall was jam packed with students sporting red and gold, green and silver. The three chasers received a huge welcome as they walked into the Hall, arms linked, looking beautiful and very Gryffindor. They hurried over to the Gryffindor table, where Harry and Ron were sitting with the twins as well as various other students. Luna Lovegood, who was in the D.A, was there too, sporting a large hat with a lion head that gave a realistic roar, scaring half the students of their wits.

The girls hurried over to join them, just as Luna drifted away.

"Nice eyebrows," said Fred, nodding at Alicia.

"Thanks," she said sheepishly.

"When you're ready," Angelina said, "We're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change."

"We'll be there in a bit," Harry assured her. "Ron's just got to have some breakfast."

Alicia exchanged nervous glances with Katie from behind Angelina's back. Ron didn't look like he was capable of breathing normally, let alone getting in a piece of toast. The poor boy's face was pallid, bordering on green, his freckles standing out like polkadots. The girls sat down at the far end of the table to strategize while they quickly ate. Alicia barely tasted her food as Angelina talked. It hadn't quite occurred to her until that moment, but this was her first last game. After this, there was the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game in March, the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game in May, and then the finals if they - no, _when_ they made it that far. She glanced over at the Slytherin table. The boys were guffawing loudly, surrounded by girls from all houses (with the exception of Gryffindor, naturally). Whatever it was they were laughing at definitely had their attention. Suddenly, Cassius - _Warrington!_ - caught her eye, and Alicia frowned at him. He stared back at her coolly, before turning back to his friends, and then it was like they didn't even know each other again. Rivals.

Fine. That was fine with her. This was potentially the last time she would play the Slytherins again, those pricks who'd almost defined her as a Gryffindor and as a chaser over the years. She would give it her best, and goddammit, they were going to win. This was _her_ year. She would _not_ leave this school without her name engraved on the Cup. Not this year.

She dutifully, emotionlessly, followed Angelina and Katie to the Gryffindor locker room. Whether on purpose or by sheer coincidence, the Slytherin chasers, along with Miles Bletchley stood up simultaneously, and Alicia felt eyes watching them as the group of rival seventh years bumped into each other.

There was no scene, however. They walked out silently in single file, side by side, grim expressions on their faces, each of them contemplating what was potentially their last game with their rivals of seven years. As if the world didn't hate her enough, Alicia found herself behind Angelina and Katie, next to Cassius - _Warrington!_ - and Bletchley. She flexed her fingers by her side.

When they finally stepped out into the corridor, they turned on each other.

"Get a chance to see our delightful badges, Johnson?" Montague asked silkily, his long tapered fingers gently stroking the silver crown-shaped badge on his forest-green jumper. _Weasley is our king_. Alicia stared at Cassius' badge and gritted her teeth.

"Do you have a staring problem, _Spinnet_?" he said suddenly, enunciating _Spinnet_ in a mocking manner, and Alicia hated the little glint in his eye, the way he looked at her like he _knew_ her. Bletchley chuckled by his side. Arsewipe.

"Did all that hair get into your eyes? No, wait, it's because you're a dirty _injun _bastard, aren't you?" he crowed, making squinty eyes at her by pulling on the corner of his eyes with his index fingers. Alicia made to lunge at him, but Katie, having heard the commotion, held her back.

"Fuck you, Bletchley," she hissed in disgust. "You watch yourself today, if I'm not mistaken I haven't lost a penalty shot against you since... hm, well, I guess never." She glanced over at Cassius, whose eyes betrayed nothing. Big surprise. She didn't even spare him a word, letting Katie and Angelina drag her away before they all got suspended before the match.

Cassius watched the girls walk down the corridor. They were headed in the same direction, so there was nowhere for them to go, but they kept a hurried pace, keeping as much distance between the two teams as possible. _Fucking Miles_. _**Are you sure you know which side you're on? **Fuck off.__  
_

After changing, and the rest of the team arrived, Montague assembled them in the anteroom in a circle. Cassius stood next to him and waited for him to say something. The silence was unnerving. Montague was usually a shouter, the type of captain who liked to talk a lot, and talk quick. Real quick. The silence was deafening, louder than the stampede of students mounting the spectator stands outside.

"This is my last game against the Gryffindors," he said slowly, suddenly, staring at them evenly, his green eyes steady, "As it is for, well, most of us. We've trained hard, and you've worked hard. We deserve to win this because we're the best, and we deserve to win this right."

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle looked stunned. Win this _right_? What in the hell did _that_ mean? But Cassius knew better. Montague could be an arse, but when it came down to Quidditch, it was his life. This was six years in the making for him, having joined the team in his second year, the youngest, lithest player on a team of bulky upper years. _Right_ meant with skill, _Right_ meant with strategy. _Righ__t_ meant against a worthy opponent, and with the exception of the baby Weasel, the Gryffindors were it._ Right_ meant winning the cup, and leaving behind a stunned next generation of students who could look back on this and _not_ say they won because of a fluke, or because they were dirty, cheating bastards. They were violent, maybe, but so were the Gryffindors. They all knew how to give as good as they got. It was part of what made them worthy.

Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor locker room, Angelina was giving her own pep talk.

"OK, I've only just found out the final line-up for Slytherin," she said, consulting a piece of parchment. "Last year's beaters, Derrick and Bole have left, but it looks as though Montague's replaced them with the usual gorillas, rather than anyone who can actually fly particularly well. They're two blokes called Crabbe and Goyle, I don't know much about them - "

"We do," said Harry and Ron together.

"Well, they don't look bright enough to tell one end of the broom from the other," said Angelina, pocketing her parchment, "But then I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way on to the pitch without signposts."

"Crabbe and Goyle are in the same mould," Harry assured her.

They could hear the crowd roaring outside and hundreds of students swarmed the stands. Alicia took a deep breath and glanced around her. This was it. The first of the last.

"It's time," said Angelina in a hushed voice, looking at her watch. "C'mon everyone... I don't need to waste words on telling you how great it's been playing with you all, and what an amazing time we'll have this year. Play your hardest, play your best. Do not stoop to their level. We're winners. Play like it. Good luck."

The team rose, shouldered their brooms and marched in single file out out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight. It was the first bright day in weeks. Alicia smiled. It was a sign.

The Slytherin team was waiting for them. Alicia stared at them, thinking how this was the last time she would go through these motions - games were never as hostile (nor, admittedly, as fun) with the other houses, who played clean and fair, but without as much... adrenaline. Nothing was more satisfying (nor more devastating) than winning (or losing) against an arch-rival.

Her eyes drifted down from one end of the Slytherin line-up to the other. Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Bletchley, Pucey, Cassius (_Warrington_ her inner voice shrieked in frustration), and Montague made for an imposing team, with their biggest players flanking the line. Crabbe and Goyle were short, solid masses with no neck and fat sausage-like fingers. They reminded Alicia of muggle bouncers at the clubs she and her friends would sneak into over the last summer with their fake IDs. Montague was nearly as wide as he was tall (alright, that was an exaggeration), but he was, as her father would say in a fake American drawl, "built like a linebacker", all height and thick muscle. Then there was Cassius, who was a little shorter and leaner, more sinewy than his best mate. Malfoy, Bletchley and Pucey were the smallest players on the team in terms of bulk, and therefore the fastest (though not necessarily an advantage for an idiot like Bletchley, who had, as of last year, still not managed to pull of any tight turns). Malfoy had shot up like a reed over the summer, Alicia noticed. With the exception of Crabbe and Goyle, who made up for their lack of height by their width, the Slytherins were a bunch of tall, hulking Neanderthals.

Alright, she admitted grudgingly to herself. They looked good, for the most part. But still. Neanderthals nevertheless. As if to prove her point, Montague was busy shaking hands with Angelina and it looked as though he were trying to crush her slim fingers between his own massive ones. She didn't bat an eye.

They kicked off into the air at Hooch's whistle, adrenaline pumping through their veins. This was it.

Alicia felt an icy rush of wind and the whip of a robe graze against her cheek as somebody sped past her towards the Slytherin side of the stadium. Around her, she caught a glimpse of Ron zipping to his goal posts, Harry flying around starting his hunt for the snitch, as Angelina and Katie entered into formation. Suddenly, Angelina made a dive and caught the quaffle as the students in the stadium roared with pleasure or disgust over the sound of Lee Jordan's usual entertaining commentaries. Angelina had made it past the Slytherins' defensive formation, ducking under Cassius and zipping past over Montague, when suddenly she pitched forward, dropping the quaffle after taking a bludger to her back. She dropped the quaffle straight into Montague's outstretched arms.

Alicia and Katie doubled back into their own defensive formation, when Montague took a bludger to the side of his head. Like Angelina had, he dropped the quaffle straight away, and Katie, the lightest and fastest of the three chasers, snatched it almost instantly.

Alicia dodged a bludger that had been meant for Katie, and reached out to grab the quaffle as Katie reverse-passed it to her.

"... and Spinnet's away!"

Indeed she was.

Cassius almost felt her coming before he saw her. She was considerably smaller than him and faster than him, and inwardly he was thankful that she managed to dodge what would have otherwise been a bruising hit to her ribs. He suddenly felt the _whoosh_ of a bludger slide past his head, almost deafened by the wind that accompanied it, and he watched in horror as it nearly clipped Alicia in the back of the head. She ducked just in time.

"Close call, Alicia - and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

Cassius smirked. It was the lyrics to Malfoy's poorly penned song, _Weasley Is Our King._

" - and Alicia passes back to Angelina!"

Cassius stared in horror as Johnson hurled the quaffle before he could get to her, but the girl had taken a calculated risk. She'd chosen to ditch the ball rather than attempt to speed away from him, and she lost the gamble. Bletchley had saved it. Cassius snatched the ball and sped off, dodging in between Bell and Alicia who were trying to pull the woollongong shimmy on him by zigzagging horizontally across the pitch in front of him, fully aware that it would be impossible to pry the ball out of his grip without the help of one of their beaters, who were nowhere in sight.

" - and its Warrington with the quaffle, Warrington heading for the goal, he's out of bludger range with just the keeper ahead -

A great swell of song arose from the Slytherin stands, fuelling Cassius' adrenaline.

The two chasers had given up on diverting him, and instead tried to act as secondary keepers to the baby Weasel, who was already flailing his arms like a beached flounder.

_Weasley cannot save a thing, _

_He cannot block a single ring... _

Cassius felt Alicia's eyes boring into his face, just daring him to take the hit. They all knew he had shit aim. He'd made it this far with his infamous sticky fingers, but she was screaming at him from in her head that this was as far as he would get. He had a split second to do it. It was now or never.

Cassius continued his drive forward, regardless of the fact that the two girls were bobbing in front of him trying to protect their precious keeper from the big bad Slytherin. Just before he was about to barrel into them, he yanked his broom up vertically, and he whipped the ball straight through Weasley's central hoop. Easy score.

The rest of the game followed a similar pattern. Easy score. Even Bletchley was doing his part by actually saving more goals than he let in. Maybe he was inspired by the Baby Weasel's failure.

The game lasted two hours. The Slytherins were up seventy points.

"Keep this up," Montague shouted, "And we'll win whether or not Potter catches the snitch!"

Another goal by Pucey. Slytherin one ten, Gryffindor thirty.

It was getting embarrassing.

Bell and Johnson scored another point each, and then Alicia threw in an easy penalty after Hooch blew the whistle on Bletchley for an obvious flocking attempt on Johnson's goal.

Cassius was leaving the hoops with the quaffle Bletchley had tossed him, when suddenly a flash of red and goal whipped past him.

Potter.

He swore. It was over. If St. Potter was flying like that, it only meant one thing. Stupid Bletchley was still singing _Weasley is our king_, oblivious to the chaos below him. Potter and Malfoy were almost neck to neck, diving towards the bottom of one of the Slytherin goalposts.

And Potter caught it. Big surprise there.

And Potter took a hit. He tumbled forward as Hooch blew the whistle.

He still had the snitch.

Montague and Pucey flew towards him, Montague tight-lipped, though he didn't look surprised by the turn of events. It was bound to happen. Bloody St. Potter.

Suddenly, a commotion roared up from beneath them, and the three of them looked down. Potter and one of the Weasel twins had piled up on top of Malfoy, judging by the flash of white-blond hair, while the Gryffindor girls shrieked obscenities, trying to keep their other animals off of Malfoy.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Montague snarled. They dove down and landed on the pitch.

One of the Weasel twins and Potter were already skulking away, as the crowd shouted from the stands.

Crabbe and Goyle had already hauled Malfoy onto his feet. Cassius shook his head in disgust. The Gryffindor chasers were arguing with Professor McGonagall and Madame Hooch, but the two witches had already turned away, the girls' complaints falling on deaf years. McGonagall stormed towards the castle while Hooch checked up on Malfoy.

The bloody prat couldn't even take a hit like a man, let alone heal himself like a wizard. He was crying and sniffing, white faced except for the blood streaming out of his nose until Pucey fixed his nose, irritated by the sight. This didn't stop the howling that he would have caught snitch if it weren't for Potter, that he'd been attacked by the Gryffindor boys for no reason. Cassius resisted the urge to tell him that there wouldn't be a point to the game if there wasn't another seeker on the field.

He glimpsed Alicia out of the corner of his eye, but she didn't notice him, too busy cursing like a dragon trainer at the remaining Weasel twin while simultaneously comforting Johnson who looked like she was about to cry.

Back in the Slytherin locker room, Montague paced back and forth, too furious for words. Not only had they lost, they'd lost in disgrace. It had been the easiest match in the world. And now it had come down to this. Every few seconds he paused, glaring down at Malfoy, but then continued to pace, at a loss for words.

"You couldn't just shut your mouth," he said quietly, finally, stopping in front of Malfoy, drawing himself to his full height. "You couldn't have just shut your bloody mouth and walked away. _You_ lost. _You _were the one who took _ten bloody seconds_ to notice that Saint Fucking Potter was already in a nose dive. Bletchley could have caught the snitch faster than your snivelling arse if he hadn't been too busy doing his own bloody job!" _  
_

He stopped, and clenched his fists.

"You lost. You should have walked away."

"But what's the big deal? They'll probably get suspended now, or maybe have their team dismantled - " Malfoy whined, oblivious to the look of hatred the senior boys threw in his direction.

"The big deal?" Montague barked. "What the _fuck_ did I say before the game? That we would win this _right_. Even if we didn't bloody win this game, we could have one the next. And the one after that. _Properly_. There were _scouts_ here today, you fucking imbeciles, and do you know what they saw? They saw us playing a fucking great game until _Crabbe_ here decided to whack a bludger at Potter _after_ we lost. They saw _Malfoy_ here antagonize the _winners_ -

He turned away, jaw clenched, unable to speak another word.

" - and now. Well, you can be _fucking sure_ that we won't have another chance to play a game like this again."

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, his eyes shut in frustration.

"The rest of you. Well played. Apparently practice works wonders."

He stormed off without another word, undoubtedly headed for the prefect's bathroom for some peace and quiet.

The boys disappeared one by one, silently into the showers. Cassius flexed his fingers in irritation as he listened to Malfoy whine from his own stall, while Crabbe and Groyle grunted their support. Imbeciles. Utter fucking imbeciles.

So. There'd been scouts. Now wonder Montague had been so insistent on them playing _right_. Why hadn't he just told them? Or maybe he hadn't known. No, that wasn't it either. He would have had a hunch. That seemed more likely. He wouldn't have made them nervous by telling them scouts were in the stadium, but by telling them to play _right_... well, obviously that hadn't worked on the the three buffoons in the stalls next to him.

Cassius was the first out of the shower. He stepped out onto the heated marble, grateful for the warmth they provided for his feet. He grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist before slowly plodding over to towards the locker and changing area. He nearly slipped in surprise when he caught sight of none another than Marcus Flint, leaning against what had once been his locker during his years on the Slytherin team.

"Warrington," said the older boy - or man, rather, nodding curtly in his direction. "Nice show out there."

"Thank you," Cassius replied smoothly, getting over his shock. He walked over to his locker, tapped his wand against it and waited for it to swing open.

"You've improved," Flint commented loftily. Cassius could almost hear the smirk in the man's voice. "I can see Montague's had you lot running laps."

"Fat lot of good that did," Cassius grumbled. "Bloody Malfoy got pummelled." He pulled on a pair of boxer-briefs followed by dark jeans before turning to face his old captain.

"Where's Montague?"

"Drowning himself in the prefect's tub, I expect," he answered. "Are you supposed to be the scout then?"

Flint let out a barking laugh.

"No, I'm not the scout. But there are a few of them around... he asked me to pull a few strings so I did."

"Shit."

Just then, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle filed into the locker room. They all froze upon seeing Marcus Flint's towering figure. Flint crossed his arms and stared down at them with a cool expression, and Cassius laughed inwardly.

"Oi Adrian, do me a favour mate, I think I left my towel on the bench," shouted Bletchley from the showers, just as Pucey sauntered into the locker area.

Cassius glanced sharply at his friend, who balked at the Flint's presence. Cassius could practically see his friend chanting _shit, shit, shit, shit, shit_ in his head.

"Pucey," said Flint in an unreadable voice. Then, he smirked. "Nothing personal, today, just business, I should think."

_Is there a difference, _Cassius asked himself, as his friend visibly relaxed.

"Are you the scout then?"

"Adrian! My towel, you bloody git!"

Pucey grabbed Bletchley's fluffy grey towel from the bench in front of his locker, clearly grateful for a distraction. He disappeared towards the showers without another word.

"Bit jumpy, that one," Flint commented sarcastically.

"I think that's just around you," Cassius replied, pulling his shirt over his head. He adjusted the sleeves, then turned around to face Flint, who was still leaning against his old locker.

"Now why would you think that?"

Cassius gave him the slightest eyebrow raise, and Flint burst out laughing. Cassius noticed that he'd had his teeth fixed since they'd last seen each other... no doubt under the influence of the Falcons' publicity manager... Flint had always been adamant about not giving a damn whether or not his teeth were crooked - he was always getting hit in the face with things anyhow, what was the point in having a pretty set to fix up over and over again anyway, he argued.

"On that note... I suppose I'll be seeing you lot at Yule. My sisters have led me to believe that you're going to be accompanying a certain Señorita Guerrero..."

Cassius quirked an eyebrow. Was he? Well, if Flint said so, then he probably was. The name struck a bell somewhere in the back of his mind. Flint let out another one of his barking laughs.

"Always the same, Warrington. Oi, Bletchley, Pucey - what are you two doing back there, getting it on?"

Suddenly, Flint froze and his eyes narrowed as he caught a glimpse of Crabbe's disorganized locker. Cassius followed his gaze and landed on the 1996 Harpies Calendar.

"You sure you haven't got your dates wrong, there?" said Flint coolly. "Last I checked, it was a bit of a travesty getting your joliles from someone who looks like a rival player... especially after losing your first game of the season to said rival."

Beatrice Keitch, quite unaware of Marcus Flint's dark expression, smiled brightly and seductively from the calendar on Crabbe's locker door, moving from one revealing position to another. It really was quite unnerving how much Bell resembled her older sister, despite the considerable age gap... although Cassius had a hard time imaging Bell flipping her hair, or even smiling in any sort of seductive manner at all... the younger girl emanated a sort of perky innocence like that of a hyperactive child that her other teammates lacked.

Malfoy ripped the calendar from Crabbe's locker, infuriated by the sight of anything that reminded him of yet another bitter loss to Saint Potter, including the near doppelgänger of their rival chaser and chucked it into the garbage bin.

"Speaking of rivals," Malfoy muttered angrily, "I can't believe that bloody bitch is the DeWitt bastard. Mother says it's absolutely abhorrent that she's being allowed into Society at all -

"Well," said Flint frostily, "I'll let my mother know that the granddaughter and potential heir of the people who run half the estates and businesses in the country will not be allowed into our home this Yule because Lady Malfoy would have a heart attack."

Malfoy glowered at Flint, and Cassius smirked inwardly.

"Malfoy," said Flint, "If I were you, I would learn to hold my tongue. She might be a half-blooded bastard, but one day, you might find her repossessing one of your homes -

" - Not if the Dark Lord -

" - Are you stupid?" Flint hissed, staring at Malfoy with a cutting look of loathing. "_That_ is _not_ something you talk about _here_."

Flint gave him a withering glance before turning back to the rest of the team, who were now fully dressed and ready to leave.

"I have to go now. I expect I'll be seeing you all soon enough. Don't _do_ anything stupid, and don't _say_ anything stupid. Tell Montague the scouts were definitely here, and I'll try my best to have them in again for your next match. In the meantime, keep up the good work." He paused by the doorway and glanced back. "And Pucey," he said with a slight smirk, "I think one of my sister's is expecting a letter from you."

* * *

**Verdict? **


	9. Chapter 9 - Rated M

**Thanks Guest and .Serpent for your reviews, much appreciated**!

**Okay, so you guys can obviously now tell that the rating has gone up. Things get heavy in this chapter, and I've never quite written a scene like this before so constructive criticism would be MUCH appreciated. If this chapter sucks badly enough that you guys prefer that I switch back to a lower rating, then definitely let me know. **

* * *

The week after the Quidditch match was depressing, to say in the least. Angelina was forced to admit defeat at the hands of Umbridge, and accept the fact that her two beaters and star seeker were banned. For life. Alicia watched sadly as her best friend paced the common room for seven straight days in her spare moments, contemplating on what to do to make up for her team's losses. Alicia did not envy Angelina then. It was obvious that they would have to do something, but holding tryouts now were out of the question; midterms were up, and after that would come the crush of pre-holiday homework to prep them for the next term. Tryouts would be virtually impossible until December at least, after the Ravenclaw-Slytherin match if they were lucky. If not, they would have to hold out until January.

Alicia shivered as she quickly, discreetly made her way out of the Room of Requirements after D.A. practice. She'd been shocked the first time Harry had given them instructions to the D.A. room a month earlier, for she recognized it as having been the same corridor with the little dwarf-sized door that led to the tiny, dank passageway to the Slytherin dungeons. She hadn't told Cassius about the room for obvious reasons, and she felt smug knowing the truth about the room, especially considering how curious he'd been regarding it.

For a second, she panicked, and she wondered if maybe he _had_ figured out the nature of the room. Cassius was, regrettably, one of the most intelligent people she'd come across at Hogwarts, and she imagined that if he truly put his mind to it, he could easily discover what the secret to the room was. She debated whether or not to bring the subject up with Harry, but decided against it. _That_ conversation could only lead to another, and she shuddered at the thought of having to explain to the younger boy the nature of her relationship with Cassius Warrington.

Or lack thereof. Because there was nothing between them. He was nothing to her, dammit, nothing!

They only spoke in cold tones now, just like they used to when they were but classmates who barely acknowledged the other's existence. Only, now she was more aware of his presence than ever. It startled her to realize that she would be graduating this year, that she'd gone six entire years without once speaking more than five words at a time to the only boy in Hogwarts who'd had his tongue down her throat.

She heard footsteps behind her and froze, but relaxed when she saw that it was only Katie. For precaution's sake, they left the Room one by one, because a crush of twenty-five students appearing out of nowhere would not only be suspicious, but possibly downright dangerous, especially with Umbridge now fully on the prowl.

"How'd you catch up to me so fast?"

"You always take the same corridor," Katie replied, shrugging.

"Where's Angelina?"

"With the twins, I imagine."

The girls snickered. It was an on-going joke that Angelina couldn't tell the difference between her two former beaters, and that she was entertaining a relationship with both of them.

"What do you suppose they get up to?" Katie asked, only half-jokingly.

Alicia made a face.

"_That_ is something I _don't_ want to think about."

Katie gave her a sly look.

"Well what about you?"

"What about me?"

Katie looked at her with a funny expression, then giggled.

"I've seen you with _Carson_," she said between fits of laughter, "And don't think I haven't noticed that you keep disappearing randomly."

"Katie," said Alicia seriously, "I already told you, there is _nothing_ going on between me and Carson. I told you, the only reason he's even escorting me to the ball is because his _girlfriend_ isn't coming out this year!"

Katie looked around to see if there was anybody in the corridor, and laughed conspiratorially.

"That's not what I heard."

"Oh spit it out already," Alicia muttered irritably.

"Temper, temper!" Katie teased.

"Katie! Now!"

"Well, well, somebody's been hanging out a little too much with a certain Warrington, I see. You know, Alicia, it's much easier to catch flies with honey than with vinegar -

"Katie!" Alicia exclaimed indignantly, feeling slightly rattled by how close to the truth Katie had come.

"Alright, alright, I'm only teasing. But you'll never guess what I heard. I was in the library the other day trying to grab a book, when I overheard _Carson_ and Davies talking with whatshisname, the other one -

"Peter."

"Right, anyway, apparently Carson's broken it off with his girlfriend, and Davies said, 'is it because of Spinnet?' and -

"What!"

"Wait for it! And he says, Carson I mean, he says 'no'. Then he says, 'sort of', and then he says yes, because apparently you're loads more fun than his girlfriend ever was, and that you're kind of scary sometimes, which he really likes -

"Scary? What the hell does that mean, I'm scary?" Alicia half-shrieked.

"Well, I imagine it means you're like a bloody banshee, doesn't it?"

Alicia and Katie whipped around. It was Bletchley and Higgs. Alicia glared hatefully at the two boys.

"Go back to your broom closet," she said scornfully, smirking at Higgs, whose reputation had suffered somewhat following his replacement by Malfoy on the Quidditch team. She mouthed the word _bender_, and smiled cruelly when the two boys went for their wands.

Katie and Alicia were quicker. Within a split second, Bletchley was drowning in his own eyebrows, whilst Higgs rolled around in agony, hands over his ears.

"What did you to him?" Alicia asked as they quickly ran away from the scene of the crime.

"Bell Toll jinx," Katie replied.

"Nice. His ears'll be ringing for days, the bloody prick."

"Beautiful handiwork with the eyebrows, I must say, revenge is always a dish best served cold."

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Alicia spent her time carefully watching the Ravenclaw table, while Katie giggled quite indiscreetly by her side.

By the end of breakfast, Alicia came to the conclusion that Carson Bishop did indeed have some sort of interest in her that was perhaps not quite as platonic as she'd originally believed. They'd met each other's gaze several times over the course of the meal, and Alicia realized after the third time that Carson spent as much time trying to watch her as she did him. Only, she imagined that their purposes were slightly different.

After breakfast, her suspicions were confirmed.

"Alicia! Hey, can I get a word with you?"

Alicia turned around, and Katie and Angelina laughed silently by her side. She felt her insides melt as Katie dragged Angelina away, silently whispering what she'd told Alicia the night before. Alicia smiled brightly, though her heart sunk as she guessed what he wanted to speak to her about. Carson blushed as they watched Katie and Angelina disappear down the corridor, leaving them alone, except for a crush of first year Hufflepuffs who were bragging about their Skiving Snackbox results.

"Er, why don't we sit down?" He gestured at one of the stone benches under an alcove with a stained glass window that looked out onto the grounds. Alicia sat down hesitantly.

"So, what's up?" she asked casually, examining Carson attentively. He fidgeted slightly, and Alicia almost felt embarrassed for him.

He wasn't a bad looking boy - in fact, he was quite... cute... He was blonde with a friendly face and a wide smile, not too tall and not too short... Just right. Just the sort of boy she might have gone for if -

If what?

A certain dark-haired, tight-lipped boy's face loomed in her mind, and she sucked in a breath.

As if on cue, low whistles penetrated the air above the babble of first years, and Alicia fought to keep her composure. She ignored the catcalls coming from the upper year Slytherin boys, and focused her attention back to Carson, who looked more miserable than ever.

"Sorry, Carson, I didn't catch a word you said -

"D'you wanna go to Hogsmeade with me?" he said in a rush.

Alicia stared at him with mock surprise.

"But don't you have a girlfriend?"

His face flushed, and Alicia felt her nails digging into her palms as Montague loudly sneered, "She's a lesbian, Bishop, although I could understand, what with you being a closet fairy and all, you might mistake her for your type."

Carson flushed, but continued to speak. "Yes! I mean, no. I did. I, er, well, we broke up... distance and all... and, er - I mean, you don't have to go -

"Stick to the drama queens, Bishop, they suit you better," said Pucey.

"Ignore them," Alicia muttered through clenched teeth. She glanced back at the Slytherins, who were posted up against the opposite wall, leering at the two of them as though they were watching an amusing soap. Cassius stared back at her, surprisingly _not_ cold and expressionless for once. He was laughing. He was actually laughing at her.

Alicia glared back at him defiantly before turning back to Carson, who looked at her with a hopeful expression. His pale complexion was still pink from embarrassment, but he gazed at her with such earnestness that she couldn't help herself.

"Yeah, alright," she said, the words slipping out of her mouth before she could do anything about it. Carson's face broke out into a grin, and Alicia smiled weakly at him. She nearly died when he suddenly leaned forward and pecked her on the lips, regardless of the howling Slytherins who were now dropping comments like particularly lewd, scathing game show hosts.

"Oh, and do you want to still meet up tomorrow?"

She stared blankly back at him. Tomorrow? What the hell was going on - oh. _Shit_. Tomorrow. Dancing. How could she have forgotten? They'd arranged it a couple weeks ago after checking their schedules. She groaned inwardly.

"Er, yeah, that'd be great," she said, trying to reign in her panic. "I gotta go, you know, lots to do -

They stood up at the same time, still ignoring the Slytherins, and glanced awkwardly at each other.

"Go on, show her your a man, Bishop, a first year can snog better than that pathetic display - can't you, little mate?"

Alicia shot Higgs a dirty look, then glared violently at the first year Slytherin, a snot-nosed brat who actually looked like a minuscule Cassius, who was being egged on by his friends. The first year smirked at her and glanced at her appraisingly.

"Come by our common room sometime and I'll show you what it's like to have a proper snog," said the boy, grinning at his friends, "No charge, even if you _are_ a Gryffindor... just because I like your legs."

"You cheeky little shit!" Alicia and Carson exclaimed simultaneously. The first years took off with a sprint, as the Slytherins practically fell to the floor laughing, including Cassius, who looked at her with a mocking glint in his eyes. Alicia gave him a cool smile, then turned back to Carson, who looked humiliated and displeased. She grabbed him by the head and pulled his face down to meet hers. The Slytherins _ooohed_ as they kissed, and Alicia silently ignored the voice in her head that warned her she was playing a cruel game. She broke off the kiss and gave Carson a smooth smile. He wasn't a bad kisser - he was quite good in fact, not too shovey with his tongue, not a biter, and certainly not a slobberer. But still. It wasn't like kissing -

She dropped _that_ thought faster than a hot potato.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said to Carson before quickly, coolly, strolling down the corridor.

She could feel Cassius' hateful glare burning into her back as the other Slytherins let out catcalls.

* * *

"What the hell is this?" Angelina shrieked the second Alicia stepped into the Gryffindor common room.

Alicia looked at her, startled.

"What the hell is what?"

"Carson! It's all over the school, you practically shagged him in the corridors in front of the Slytherins?!"

"Is that a question or a statement?"

"Alicia!"

Alicia rolled her eyes and plopped down into a seat next to Katie by the fire.

"Rather amazing how fast news travels around here," she commented, as she curled herself up underneath her robes.

"That's not the point - is it true?"

"Well who told you?"

"Some first years who heard it from some first year Hufflepuffs."

Alicia scoffed.

"Well, if you had any common sense, you would_ know_ that I would _never_ shag a bloke in a corridor full of Slytherins."

Katie grabbed Alicia's arm excitedly.

"But you _did_ snog him, then?"

Alicia smirked, though she didn't feel good about it. She _had_ snogged him, and the churning feeling in her stomach told her she hadn't done it for the right reasons. She pictured Cassius' face in her mind, and she could almost imagine the stormy anger that would have clouded his eyes. Then, she thought about poor Carson and his kind, bright eyes and his genuine smile, and it made her feel rotten inside. Like a Slytherin. Maybe Katie had been onto something the other night... too much of Warrington indeed.

Angelina and Katie were throwing out questions at a mile a minute. What had it been like? Why had she done it? Were they going out now? How long had they been seeing each other? That was why she kept disappearing, wasn't it? What happened to her no shitting where you eat policy?

Alicia almost laughed out lout at the last question. She'd chucked _that _rule out the window practically the first day she arrived back at school.

God, how had three months gone by? She was starting to think ominously these days, her mind periodically reminding her that this was her last this and her last that.

Well. Today was a first. She imagined that it was out by now that Alicia was _not_ in fact a lesbian, but most likely the slag that the first rumour had pegged her to be, back in what was it now? Last year? Fifth year?

Time was melting together. She couldn't remember half her days at school, and yet, as she thought about it, she'd spent more years of her life that she could actually remember within the walls of Hogwarts than she ever did with her parents. She had more memories of sneaking around, of playing Quidditch, of potions messes, than she did of her childhood running around in the streets with her friends, of sitting on the counter behind the bar while her father poured out pints and liquor. It was more that Hogwarts was her home than the other way around.

But Merlin, how she use one of her father's special hot chocolates ("_don't tell your mother!"_) right about now. _  
_

She groaned at the thought of having to meet Carson tomorrow afternoon under the current circumstances. At the rate things were going, she imagined they'd be doing more than dancing tomorrow.

Shit. And then there was Cassius. She was supposed to meet _him_ tomorrow too. Their project was coming to an end. The final written copies would be due by in two weeks, and then the last three classes would be dedicated to oral presentations.

Bloody oral presentations... what were they, twelve? But the professors had insisted - pronunciations were just as important to runes as they were to any modern day spells, and Babbling would be picking words out of the texts at random to test their pronunciations at the end of each presentation. Binns wanted to see how much historical garbage they could regurgitate, and Vector wanted a demonstration of the arithmancy in front of the class so that they could critique the profiles and their application as a group.

In sum, it was all utter rubbish.

* * *

Alicia awoke the next morning feeling bright and refreshed from her first full night's sleep since, well, in weeks. That is, until she remembered with a horrified start what her day entailed. Hogsmeade wasn't for another three weeks, which meant three awkward weeks until the Big Day, and then there were two more weeks until she would be granted some reprieve - her mind came to a halt.

Yule.

The word rang through her head like a death sentence, and she shuddered at the thought.

Yule.

It was the damned ball's fault. She never would have gotten as close to Carson as she had if it weren't for the damned debutante ball.

The worst part was, he was nice - really nice, and Alicia genuinely liked him. As a friend.

Kissing him had been a bad idea.

Again, further proof that it had been her golden rule had kept her safe from these sort of dilemmas until now.

It was Cassius' fault too, she thought angrily. And that snot-nosed little first year version of him, too. Alicia buried herself under her covers. She was _not_ ready to start the day.

Unfortunately, Angelina was in the opposite mood, and she hummed impatiently as she tried to rouse Alicia from bed.

"C'mon, Alicia, don't you want to go to breakfast?" she whined. "I'm bloody starving, and it's _Sunday_, you know what that means."

Sundays. Alicia's mouth watered, her own body betraying her. Sundays meant Belgian waffles, and crepes, and chocolate sauce, chocolate milk, chocolate pudding, strawberries and cream -

"Alicia!"

"Just go without me!"

Angelina wrenched open her bed hangings and glared down at her.

"Up, up, up! And anyway, don't you want to hang out with your new _boyfriend_? I imagine he'll want you at his table today, make it official and all." She wrinkled her nose. "Though what you'll have to talk about with a bunch of Ravenclaws beats me." **  
**

Alicia groaned and buried herself further into her bed. Angelina tore her covers away, leaving Alicia to shiver in horror.

"You bitch!"

Angelina tutted.

"Language, Spinnet, I might have to deduct points!"

"I'm in your bloody house, dammit!"

Angelina laughed and ducked as Alicia chucked a pillow at her.

* * *

Cassius took a particularly large, vicious bite of an apple in order to force himself to keep his mouth occupied, lest he lunge across the table and take Bishop's throat in his hands. He glared angrily at the _happy couple_ practically sitting across from him. It hadn't been bad enough that Spinnet had nearly jumped down Bishop's throat the day before just to spite him (and it _was _just to spite him, dammit!), but now she was sitting with the prat and the rest of his wet chums at the Ravenclaw table, which was, as luck would have it, adjacent to the Slytherins' table.

Judging by the looks Bishop threw him every now and then, Cassius had the feeling that it wasn't without reason that the couple were seated directly within his line of sight. He took another bite out of his apple, nearly ripping out the core.

Montague eyed him strangely, and Cassius ignored the stare, though he took care to be a little more discreet in his loathing. He was slipping, becoming more and more like a Gryffindor (under Alicia's influence, no doubt), his emotions acting before reason. Still, he couldn't help but mutter in disgust when Bishop pressed a kiss to Alicia's temple, smiling like a fool. He looked like an imbecile in his first relationship.

Cassius, who had never been in a relationship, imagined that he would have behaved with a little more dignity, decorum. It made him nauseous to watch Bishop smear a dollop of cream on Spinnet's face when she wasn't looking, busy talking to some girl sitting next to her. When she turned around to face Bishop, she caught Cassius' scathing glance, and quickly turned her gaze to Bishop.

"Fucking tosser."

"What?"

_Shit_.

"Nothing," he said, glancing haphazardly at Montague, "Just thinking out loud."

"Right..."

_You're losing it mate, couldn't come up with anything better than that? You're getting soft._

Cassius gritted his teeth and resolved himself to continue working on his meal. Chew, chew, chew.

He left abruptly, once he finished the last of his sausages.

Still, it was like Bishop was running some sort of piss-Cassius-off-marathon against him. Alicia too, for that matter. In fact, the world hated him.

The prefects had gone round, beginning their decorating campaign for Christmas cheer during the day (despite the fact that the holidays were a bloody month away!), and the upper year students, fourth and up, found themselves trapped under socially destructive bunches of mistletoe in strategic areas such as the main corridor outside of the Great Hall, or right outside the potions lab. Cassius was making his way out of the Hall after dinner when he passed no less than three couples trapped under the mistletoe, which wouldn't luck have it, magically moved to different locations after releasing a trapped couple so that one could not map out a route to avoid punishment. Granger's handiwork, no doubt. Clever bitch.

The first couple was standing right outside the Great Hall, a Hufflepuff fourth year and a particularly uncomfortable looking Theodore Nott. The girl was about as red as a glass of wine, and Cassius watched in amusement as the couple tried desperately to move their feet, but found themselves anchored in place.

"Nott," said Cassius with a smirk.

Nott grimaced, the solitary boy rendered further embarrassed by his newfound audience.

"Just to let you know, I left a bit early. I suspect everyone else will be leaving in about, oh, say, a minute or two. If I were you, I'd get the job done."

The girl blushed even more and Cassius winked at her, just to see her squirm. He laughed and went on his way.

The second couple was located in the same alcove where the scene between Bishop and Alicia had taken place the day before. Some prefect had a funny sense of humour.

Cassius had trouble telling where one person began and the other ended, because the girl was sitting across the boy's lap, her legs dangling off one of his thighs, arms wrapped around his neck. Judging by the boy's moving feet, Cassius had no doubt that they were no longer frozen in place. He made a sound of disgust that fell on deaf ears.

By now, other students had burst out of the Great Hall, and Cassius could hear the oohing and the laughter, the catcalls, and the curses that echoed down the corridor whenever students found themselves stuck in a precarious position. Cassius chuckled to himself, staring at the ceiling as he walked in order to avoid entrapment himself.

Alicia had said she would meet him in the music room as usual, half an hour after dinner, although _that_ had been arranged after Ancient Studies, and prior to yesterday's scene. Cassius wondered if he ought to bother even showing up - Bishop had stuck to Alicia like glue, if their lunch and dinner interactions were a clue - but he decided as he walked that even if she failed to show up, he could at least fiddle around on the piano for a bit.

As luck would have it, he _did_ run into Alicia and Bishop, and they were standing in front of the music room under a bunch of mistletoe, which Bishop pointed out with all the subtlety of a twelve year old girl. Cassius snorted, and the couple turned to look at him. Bishop scowled, but Cassius crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

"Go on, get it done," he said icily, "I have work to do."

Alicia had the decency to blush, but Cassius stared past her and glared at Bishop, who was returning the death stare.

Alicia quickly pecked the imbecile on the lips, and stepped away from him, opening the door to the music room behind her as she gave Bishop a weak smile. Cassius glanced up. The mistletoe had vanished, on its hunt for its next victims.

"I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Alright," he said unhappily, still glaring at Cassius, who shoved past him. "And if this prick gives you any trouble -

"You can _leave_ now Bishop, this isn't the sappy wet romance novel that I'm sure you think it is," he sneered, "Don't worry, I wouldn't touch your precious cargo with a ten foot pole."

He slammed the door to the music room in Bishop's face, smiling coldly at him through the window. He pulled down the shade.

Alicia eyed Cassius with a wary expression.

"Let's just get this done," she said, sounding resigned.

"Why, so you can get back to snogging Bishop? He must not be doing a very good job -

"Cassius, you prick, you're the one who just said you wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole!"

He stared at her angrily, eyes narrowed.

"Back to Cassius, are we, _Alicia_?" he sneered.

He hadn't said her name out loud in weeks. It felt foreign on his lips, saying it with the animosity he usually reserved for _Spinnet_.

"Fuck you," she said in a clipped voice.

"How is Bishop, anyway? Did you jump on his cock as fast as you jumped down his throat?"

She slapped him, and Cassius let her. He stared at her coldly, willing himself not to react as hot angry tears rose to her eyes. She blinked them back, much to her credit, and to his relief. He leaned against the door, arms crossed, barring her exit as she tried to shove past him.

"What, you're going to lock me in here?" she said, laughing hysterically. "Get out of my way, Warrington, we're through."

"There is no _we_," he said, "So I can't quite say I understand what you're trying to imply."

She laughed again, stepping back to stare up at him.

"Keep telling yourself that," she said, suddenly calm. "Is that why you're so worked up about _Carson_?" She laughed again when he gritted his teeth at the sound of Bishop's name. "Because as far as I'm aware, I'm free to snog him all I want. Or what was it again? Oh, right. Jump on his cock. Well, I imagine I'm free to do that all I want, too."

Cassius gave her a cruel smile.

"Yes, well, you do seem so eager to be around him all the time. Amazing, it's only been what, a day? You two must be starving for affection... on one hand, you've got a fairy in denial, just desperate for somebody blind enough to not notice the fact, on the other, a frigid bitch -

This time, Cassius snatched her by the wrist before she could lay another smack on his still-smarting cheek. When she reached up to punch him with the other, he grabbed that arm too. With frightening ease, he flipped her against the wall and pinned her arms over head as she struggled to get free.

"Let go of me!"

"No, not if you're going to smack me around like some silly muggle."

"Fuck you."

Cassius stared down at her with a frosty smirk, and she glared up at him defiantly, but he could see the weariness in her eyes. It made him feel a twinge of shame, but he brushed it aside.

"When he snogs you, I bet you think about me," he said suddenly, catching the dilation of her pupils and quickening of he breath as he bore down on her. With her arms raised against the wall, her chest strained against her shirt with every breath. Cassius licked his lips. Dry. As usual. She bit her own lips, plump, red and moist, and Cassius felt anger stir in his veins as he thought about Bishop's teeth grazing her skin.

Cassius kissed her, and she didn't stop him. When he trusted her enough not to rip out his eyes, he let her arms drop to her side, and he deepened the kiss as her hands came to rest on him, one in his hair, the other around his face.

It was a savage kiss, and Cassius groaned as she gently tugged on his hair. He ran his hands down her body, dragging her robes off as he brought his lips to her jaw, then to her neck, breathing deeply right at the crook of skin where she smelled sweetest. She let out a soft hiss when his tongue darted out, gently kissing her along the collarbone before returning to her lips with brutal lust.

She was panting, which was how he wanted her. He wanted to hear her say his name, properly, wanted to hear her admit that he was the only one that made her come so undone. He nipped harshly at her skin as he thought about Bishop's unworthy hands skimming her perfect torso, his lips running over her skin as he was doing now.

"Did he make love to you, Alicia?" he sneered mockingly.

"Screw you," she hissed, but was horrified to find herself letting out an involuntary moan when one of his hands came to rest on her breast, under her bra.

How had he gotten there? Alicia couldn't help herself, didn't care really, and she writhed in pleasure as Cassius flicked his callused fingers over her, giving her grim looks of satisfaction whenever she cried out.

"I'm going to fuck you," he said gently, and the words were vulgar, so vulgar and full of promise, but the way he said it made it sound like something else, something neither of them dared to acknowledge. Alicia didn't reply, as he unbuttoned her blouse with one expert hand, while the other made its way up under skirt.

"I know _he_ didn't touch you like this," Cassius half snarled, as Alicia's shirt came undone. He glanced down at her chest. Her bra was some sort of satiny material, the colour of deep wine. He noticed with some amusement that her lingerie always looked expensive... certainly in better condition than most of her other belongings.

He would buy her the world.

He stifled that thought and unclasped her bra. She shivered as the cool air of the music room caressed her skin, and Cassius swallowed, suddenly aware of the enormity of what was happening now. They'd never gotten this far, and it was almost embarrassing for him. He couldn't remember ever having taken this long to get a girl to give it up, couldn't remember ever having put in so much effort to look at a pair of average sized tits. Uncertainty roared out of nowhere. She looked at him, trembling from the cold, her big almond shaped eyes dark with lust. She looked like she'd come back from a holiday in the sun, the way her skin, just a shade darker than his own, was flushed. He admired the way her chest rose and fell with every breath.

"I thought you were going to fuck me," she said in a husky voice, taking him by surprise, and Cassius was undone.

Alicia was aware that she was a bad, bad girl. She was taking advantage of Carson's trust, but the little voice in her head told her that they weren't going out anyway. They'd only snogged, after all. Right? _Right_?

But here she was, standing topless in front of _Cassius Warrington_, and when he didn't reply, she crossed her arms over her chest in embarrassment, suddenly quite aware of how awful a person she was, and exactly _what _she was doing and with _whom_ she was doing it with.

"No," he said hoarsely, and Alicia looked at him, startled. "I want to see," he grunted, pushing her arms down to her sides. Alicia felt her face flame. She'd never been inspected so closely in her entire life. She hazily recalled her drunken summer hookups with some level of shame. She moved to cover herself again, but Cassius threw her an agitated look.

"Put your arms up," he said in a low voice. Alicia blinked at him. "Like before. Like when I held them up."

Alicia swallowed.

"What?" she managed to choke out.

"Do it."

Cassius watched her now, looking amused. She was struggling with herself, he could see it, and never had he been so aroused. There was no coyness with her, no fake shyness, no games. She was genuinely conflicted, and it was damned sexy to watch. When she finally gave in to his command and hesitantly raised her arms above her head, leaning against the wall, Cassius felt a rush of satisfaction and lust. He examined her from head to toe, and she was the picture of a naughty schoolgirl, a virginal sacrifice. She was naked waist up except for the hideous Gryffindor tie that rested between her breasts, and clothed in nothing else but the bloody grey school skirt that he'd come to associate her with, and little brown leather ankle boots. Her long, thick dark hair was a mess. He let his shirt fall away, tugged his tie off, and watched in satisfaction as her eyes fell to his chest. He silently thanked Montague for his mad training schedule.

"My arms are getting tired," she said suddenly, so honestly, that Cassius burst out laughing. He couldn't picture any of the girls he'd ever been with admitting such a thing out loud.

He brushed his hands against her skin and undid her tie, that sorry reminder of who she was, then reached out to cup her breasts, admiring the contrast between her tawny skin and his paler hands. They just about filled his palms, perfect little mounds, and he smiled when she let out a groan and pushed herself towards him, arms still glued to the wall.

"You can put them down," he said, gently kissing her skin. He felt her arms drop to her sides, then tentatively reach out to touch him. He smiled into the curve of her neck as her fingers hesitantly explored him. He sucked in a breath when she gently, then with more pressure, ran her tips of her fingers down his abdomen, then over the zipper of his jeans.

Cassius put his hands under her ass and pulled her up against him, hoisting her up against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he felt the back of her heels bump against him. He buried his face into her chest with an exaggerated motion and blew a raspberry between her high, round breasts, and she let out a laugh. It was a beautiful sound. Unfortunately or fortunately for his ears, the rest of his body wanted to do a little more than make her giggle, and soon her laughs were soft moans yet again, punctuated by little yelps when he nipped at her, tugging with his teeth.

He dropped her to her feet then kissed his way down her soft, rounded stomach until he reached the waistband of her skirt. He felt her tense, and he looked up at her with a teasing grin. She looked worried, though, which he wasn't expecting, and he raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Her face flamed as he tugged down her skirt, leaving her in her little boots and a pair of satin knickers that matched her bra.

"Scared, Gryffindor?"

Alicia felt her face grow even hotter, if that was possible, as she stared down at the man who had sunk to his knees for her. Mouth dry, she swallowed anxiously, and let out a gasp when she felt one of his fingers run over her centre, stroking her over the damp fabric of her knickers.

"You're wet," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

She let out another gasp when she felt him slowly drag the material down.

"Wait!"

Cassius looked up at her in disbelief. _Merlin's balls, if she's having second thoughts now..._

Alicia felt the peak of her embarrassment, staring down at Cassius, who looked up at her with a stormy expression on his face. She could feel her knickers hanging by her knees where he'd left them, and she waited desperately for him to stand, to move, to do something, but instead, he impatiently waited for her to explain herself.

If only he wasn't still on his knees, so casually face to face with her exposed skin -

"I - nobody's ever done _that_," she stammered, feeling her Gryffindor courage dissipate. Cassius' eyes darkened.

"What do you mean," he growled, coming to his feet.

Cassius could feel his blood threatening to boil over. Blue balls, he thought viciously. She was going to blue ball him, announce that she was a bloody virgin after everything - _  
_

"You were going to -

"Yes?"

She refused to meet his eye, so he tilted her chin up to look at him.

"I was going to?"

"You were going to kiss me _there,__" _she burst out in one quick sentence.

Cassius felt his shoulders sag in relief, and then a surge of hot excitement rush through him as he stared down into her eyes. He kissed her hard, then pulled back with a grin. _There, _she'd called it. She couldn't even say it. _Pussy, _he snickered silently. Circe, maybe she wasn't a virgin, but she certainly hadn't been around the block either... for some reason that pleased him, but he refused to analyze the issue further.

Then he frowned. "What do you mean no one's ever done that?" What kind of imbecile - Bishop's face loomed in his mind, and he scoffed in understanding. _That_ kind of imbecile. "You're going to like this," he said, smirking at her.

"You're awfully sure of yourself," she replied, regaining some of her confidence. Cassius smiled as he kissed his way down her body once again. Her little gasps and moans weren't enough for him... he'd have her screaming his name yet.

When he finally pressed his mouth to her core, she was already wet and shaking, and her little gasps became soft yelps interjected with his name, and he smirked as she yanked on his hair almost painfully. She swore like the scummiest dragon trainer as he continued his teasing ministrations, his tongue flicking almost lazily against her clit, and when he suddenly pushed a finger into her tight centre, he felt her convulse around him as she cried, "Cassius!"

Alicia could smell herself on him when he rose to his feet to look at her, a smug smile tugging at his glistening lips.

"Well look at you," he drawled, "And we haven't even gotten started yet."

He swiped his glistening fingers across her lips, and she drew them into her mouth almost without thinking, looking up at him as she sucked. He pulled them out with a little _pop_, eyes dark with some sort of hidden intent, and she watched nervously as he quickly undressed himself. This was always the most awkward part by her books... When his jeans dropped to the floor, taking his underwear with them, Alicia might have laughed at the sight of a naked Cassius Warrington standing in nothing but a pair of socks and black trainers, if it weren't for his rather obvious erection that somewhat frightened her. She suddenly wished for the safety of darkness, the drunkenness, the familiar haziness of her past sexual encounters. This was too... real. She no longer felt brazen, she felt like a... like a virgin. Even her first time had been a less nerve-wracking experience.

He watched her expressions change as he kicked off his shoes and socks, and wondered what she was thinking. A part of him was screaming for her to change her mind, to yell at him for accosting her - anything, anything _normal_ of the Gryffindor chaser he knew from the pitch - but instead, she stepped out of her boots and socks, then hesitantly, moved towards him like a frightened ewe. _Fuck_.

He held his breath when she reached out to touch him, her fingers barely ghosting over his skin as though she were afraid to hurt him. When she sunk to her knees, back arched and bottom up, he nearly came right then, and it jarred him. She looked up at him shyly through her lashes.

Before he could blink, he felt her tongue dart out and lick the tip of his cock. _  
_

He groaned, and reached down to pull her away, to tell her this was wrong, that she didn't have to do this - anything, anything really to bring back his sanity, but then she suddenly took him into her mouth, one torturous inch at a time, testing her boundaries before she began to pick up on a rhythm.

His hands found their way into her hair by their own accord, and when he couldn't take it anymore, he pulled her away and looked down at her, panting harshly.

"Was that okay?"

God, that question just about killed him. He felt an unfamiliar surge of guilt, but he swallowed it, and gave her a feral smile.

"Excellent," he said, which strangely, wasn't a lie. Her obvious lack of experience, she made up with an enthusiasm that he hoped would transfer to other domains.

He reached for his wand and quickly transfigured the pile of clothes into a crude mattress, his mind too clouded with tension to work on finesse. He kissed her, then dragged her onto the mattress. It made an embarrassing squeak, but he couldn't be bothered to deal with it.

Alicia found herself laying on her back, hair sprawled out around her, with Cassius staring down at her, his face an unreadable mask.

"Promise you'll be gentle," she found herself saying in a disembodied voice, and she watched as though from afar as he gave her a curt nod.

_Pressure_, he thought viciously.

Gentle. He wasn't sure if he knew the meaning of the word. He was big and hard where she was small and soft. His very physical nature probably prevented him from being gentle in anyway whatsoever. His demeanour certainly wasn't... Cassius liked to do things rough, and he liked to do things well. Thorough. That was the kind of man he was. Alicia's usual vivacious wildness was gone, and he didn't recognize the girl before him. _  
_

But then he remembered the enthusiasm with which she'd gone down on him, and the breathy moans and the filthy curses he'd coaxed out of her earlier, and he felt himself relax.

He could do this. She didn't want gentle. She wanted patience. Cassius was a patient man. He'd work her slowly, but he'd work her hard. He gave her a sly grin.

Alicia moaned as he entered her, slowly, filling her to the point of satisfaction and beyond. She found herself suddenly recollecting past hookups, and was almost ashamed. They were nothing like this. Maybe it was the sobriety. Maybe it was him.

She banked on the sobriety. She couldn't afford for it to be otherwise.

"Fuck," he hissed, interrupting her thoughts, "You're so goddamn tight... when's the last time you had a shag?"

"Four months," she said throatily.

_Merlin's balls, four months?! Not Bishop then, that stupid twat._

"We'll have to rectify that," he said with a grin. "You doing alright?" She nodded, and bucked her hips up as a sign of encouragement, causing him to swear once more.

He starting moving slowly, shallow movements at first so that she could adjust herself to his invasion, and she smiled gratefully at him. Soon, after a couple of false (and painful starts), she began to move her hips on her own, and he let out another curse, this time in relief. He smiled when he quickly realized that Alicia Spinnet was a screamer. Really, though, he wasn't all that surprised.

Getting tired of the same motions, he flipped himself onto his back, and dragged her over with him without leaving the warmth of her body as she squealed in surprise.

"What, you never been for a ride either?" he asked cheekily.

She flushed in embarrassment.

"Not really something I want to talk about right now," she said awkwardly, looking down at him, hands planted on his chest. She yelped when his hands suddenly slapped down on her ass, causing her to buck forward in surprise. He let out a groan of pleasure, then winked at her.

"Well, that's how you do it."

"Cassius!"

He slapped her again and bumped his hips up, smirking as she shut her eyes in pleasure and began to shift her hips, grinding herself down on him.

"That's it," he said encouragingly. "Bend your back a bit - ah, shit, like that. Fuck, yeah, that's it - "

Alicia drowned him out as she felt a wave of pleasure sweep over her, and she vaguely heard herself gasping his name in time with their movements.

He squeezed greedily at her breasts as she rode him, then ran his hands back down to her hips. Suddenly, she slipped off of him and crawled onto all fours, back arched like when she'd been going down on him. She looked down at him through her lashes, then muttered, "I sort of really like it from behind."

"You dirty girl," he growled after a split second of getting over his shock. He sat up and scrambled over to take her from behind, running his hand down her curves as he teased her while she writhed against him.

"Cassius! Wrong hole!" she gasped with a mixture of shock, pleasure and embarrassment as she felt him slide himself between her cheeks.

"What makes you say that?" he said hoarsely. "You seem to like it... and you _did _say you like it from behind."

She immediately stopped grinding against him, and he chuckled in amusement. She turned her head to look back at him, face aflame.

"Relax. That's for another day," he said with a sly grin, entertained by the look on her face.

"That's not what I meant -

He cut her off with a kiss, then pulled away, laughing.

"I know." He paused, then looked at her darkly. "But one day. You'll like it, I promise."

Her eyes grew wide, but her breathing had stilted just a touch, her pupils dilated by the prospect of it, and he gave her a predatory look, grinding himself against her one more time.

He slid himself south by a couple of inches, then slowly filled her to the hilt. She shrieked his name out as she came, catching him by surprise with the suddenness and the intensity of it.

_Oh fuck._

A surge of sudden panic nearly drowned out his pleasure.

But she was bucking against him, calling his name, demanding it harder, more, faster, Cassius, CASSIUS, CASSIUS! and he found himself pounding into her with a frightening desperation, unable to stop. He fisted a hand into her hair, pulling her head up sharply so that he could kiss her along the neck. He slid his hand down to her hip, then gripping her tightly, he gave a last furious thrust as she clenched deliciously around him, crying out in pleasure as he came._  
_

_Fuck._

He'd just shagged Alicia Spinnet.

_Fuck_.

They hadn't used protection.

_Fuck_.

He had to get her a potion. Fast.

"Fuck." It was Alicia who'd spoken, face still flushed, eyes glossed over from pleasure, but her voice hoarse and full of horror.

"Get dressed," Cassius growled abruptly, pulling her up with him as he stood onto his feet. They stepped off the mattress and with the flick of his wand, the mattress became once again a pile of clothes. He grimaced. Wet, white streaks polluted the pitch black of one of their robes. "_Scourgify_."

He could feel her panicking as they quickly threw on their clothes. She tied her hair into a messy bun, and cast a glamour charm to hide the red streaks left on her perfect, sweaty face by his day-old stubble.

"What do I do?" she suddenly gasped, and he hated the look fear in her eyes.

Alicia had never shagged a wizard before, and she realized with a rather large degree of shock how ignorant she was of magical sexual protection_. _Back in the muggle world, there were condoms, and birth control pills, and pills to take after, _just in case_. The words _like mother, like daughter_ rang in her ears, and she fought to keep her composure. Where was all that _Witch Weekly_ knowledge now?

Potions. They were the only thing. Potions, sold in apothecaries... she was in a castle in the middle of nowhere.

Hogsmeade weekend wasn't for another three weeks. She could _not_ go to Madame Pomfrey with this. Or, merlin forbid, Snape. But in three weeks it would be too late... three weeks would mean a trip to St. Mungo's if she found herself knocked up. Cassius hadn't said a word, but now she found him staring at her, looking just as aghast, far from his usual stony state. She gnawed on her lips, unsure of what to say. The words _we're screwed_ came to mind.

"You're not on any birth control potions are you?" he finally asked for good measure, though judging by her pallid complexion, he already had his answer. He nodded curtly. "Thought not."

"What the _fuck_ am I going to do?"

"You'll have to get a stopper."

"A what?"

"A stopper," he repeated. God, hadn't her mother taught her anything? He scoffed. Probably not, the woman had been knocked up by a muggle after all. "A stopper. You know. Pregnancy stopper. Just in case."

The word pregnancy nearly made him puke. She nodded. Right, Witch Weekly had listed a comparison of birth control potions and of stoppers a couple editions back, but the article hadn't had anything to do with her at the time. But again, it was all of no use... not without an apothecary handy, anyway, and if she went to Pomfrey, she'd have to wait for a letter of permission from her parents before anything... Even if she _was_ theoretically of age, as a student, she was still under her parents' jurisdiction while at Hogwarts.

"Where the hell am I going to get one?" she said anxiously.

Cassius smiled grimly. He knew where to get one, alright. It was a matter of... diplomacy. The girls who slept around usually kept an impressive arsenal of potions and whatnot, but how to convince one of them to _discreetly_ give him one? And they were bloody costly to boot...

"I'll deal with it," he said gruffly.

"What do you mean you'll deal with it!" Alicia exclaimed, her pitch rising, voice bordering on hysteria.

"I said I'll deal with it," he repeated.

"Where the _hell_ are you going to find a stopper? God, what if somebody finds out -

Cassius gritted his teeth and glared at her.

"Worried about your precious boyfriend?" he sneered angrily.

Alicia looked at him, stunned.

"What boyfriend -

She paused. Fuck. Carson. She'd forgotten all about him. Cassius let out a derogatory laugh, while pretending to himself that he wasn't silently gloating. He cursed, suddenly finding himself unable to move.

"Oh for merlin's sake," he cursed. Alicia groaned as she found herself rooted to her spot as well. She found that she couldn't move forward or backward, but she could turn in place.

"Turn around," she said to Cassius, whose back was to her.

"I can't move -

"Yes, you can. You can turn. Hurry up before somebody comes and sees."

Cassius turned and glowered at her.

Merlin, why did it have to get awkward now?

She looked up at him forlornly, then he reluctantly bent down and gave her a kiss. He felt a sudden rush of blood as he caught the smell of sex on her, their taste on her mouth. _Fuck_._  
_

Alicia let out a quiet moan as the kiss deepened, and she felt a familiar tingle of pleasure humming in her veins. It wasn't until they heard a door swing open that he hastily pulled away from her, and they both whipped their heads back to see who it was.

Four second years popped out of one of the music rooms one at a time, each carrying an assortment of string instruments. Their chattering fell silent as they caught sight of the dishevelled seventh years before them. Cassius shot them icy glares, and they quickly, quietly scampered out of the corridor in the opposite direction.

When they were out of earshot, Alicia giggled - couldn't help herself, really.

"What?" he said, looking at her, irritated.

"Nothing," she said, still laughing slightly. He glanced at her, looking slightly miffed, causing her to laugh even more. It was a pleasant sound, one Cassius rarely got to hear, and it grated on his nerves that he liked it so much.

"What?" he insisted. "What's so funny about this bloody situation?"

"Nothing! It's not funny at all. I still don't know what you mean by you're going to deal with it, but you better... I was only laughing because you scared the shit out of those second years."

"And why is that funny?"

Alicia groaned.

"Well it's not. I mean it was, but not now - oh, just forget it. Killjoy."

Cassius couldn't understand how she could be laughing at all at a time like this. He was trying not to panic, he really was - it just wasn't in his nature - but he'd never screwed up to this magnitude before either. Logically, he knew that the chances of her being pregnant were slim, but there was still that chance, and that was a chance that he was not willing to bet his life on. Not now anyway.

_What do you mean not now? Not ever, you mean. **Not you again. Fuck off! **This is what happens when you don't listen.**  
**_

Cassius took a deep breath.

"I need a fag," he muttered. "Listen, just don't... don't panic, okay? I'm going to sort this out. And no, I wont go to Pomfrey, I'm not an idiot. I'll see you tomorrow in Runes - oh for circe's sake."

"What?"

"The damned progress report."

Shit. The progress report. The reason why they were supposed to meet up in the first place. And Runes was first thing in the morning. Alicia let out a groan, and berated herself.

"Ok, here's what we're going to do. _You_ do the report. I'm going to find you a stopper. I promise I'll have it for you by tomorrow."

He rummaged through his book bag and handed her his project folder as well as a little cloth bag that contained his shrunken books.

"Just do whatever you can, I dunno, maybe start the phonological transcriptions or something. I don't really care, we've done pretty well so far, we can afford to screw up once."

"Okay, yeah, sounds good. Okay. Just - just... god, just make sure nobody finds out."

The curfew bell rang, stopping Cassius from responding.

"Damn," they swore simultaneously.

They walked quickly towards the main corridor, and silently melted away into the larger crowd of students making their way to their respective common rooms. Neither of them slept a wink that night.

* * *

**Thoughts? **

**Constructive criticism would be much appreciated, especially since I'm sort of new to this whole M thing... **


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews! **

**Peanutbutterjamjellyyy - I will always mark off explicit chapter titles with a 'rated M' so that you can get a heads up. Hopefully this is okay with you? I'm glad you found the last chapter good nevertheless, I was quite nervous about it. And obviously I'm not out to offend anybody... **

**Guest - I'm glad you liked the last chapter as well. Please let me know in the future if you find it becomes trashy smut, which is something I definitely want to avoid... **

** .serpent - I can definitely try to work something in from Alicia's POV in the near future :P **

**Anyway, here's the next chapter. Read and Review! **

* * *

As Cassius lay in bed staring into the darkness, he silently contemplated a list of all the girls who would potentially be willing to part with a stopper. He knew they wouldn't have more than one each because stoppers were not only pricey, they were regulated... they weren't a method of birth control, and taking too many in a short period of time could have the disastrous effect of rendering the user sterile. There were birth control potions for a reason... because prats like him forgot to cast a simple charm every so often. The stopper was a last minute recourse, one that the girls he screwed had never needed. At least, not with him. Not until now.

The only problem with the girls, and it was a rather large one, was that they tended to not believe in the word 'discretion', and Cassius desperately wanted to avoid becoming the newest headliner in the school's gossip mill.

At breakfast the next morning after a gruelling practice during which Montague spent half the time barking at him to stay awake, Cassius was grimly pleased to see that Alicia looked as dead as he felt. His pleasure dissipated, however, when Bishop sauntered into the Great Hall like the great tosser that he was, and wandered over to the Gryffindor table to give Alicia a quick peck on the cheek. His displeasure multiplied when the imbecile settled down next to her, while her friends tittered from the sidelines. She was avoiding his gaze, he thought irritably. The word _bitch_ came to mind. He'd only spent the entire bloody night trying to think of a way to sort out their little... issue.

Their.

Now that was a problematic word if there ever was one, but there was no denying it now... they'd crossed the line between enemy camps when Cassius had buried himself into her with a pleasure that haunted him still, and of course, things had been better in real life than they had ever been in his fantasies, fantasies which never should have existed in the first place.

He stabbed his kippers with such violence that hot grease sprayed up and scorched his hand.

"What's the matter with you?" Montague demanded, glaring at him before inspecting his sleeves to see if they'd been stained by grease.

Cassius dismissed him with a blank stare. He'd already spent an hour listening to Montague insulting his lacklustre performance during practice, that another one of his comments melted into the background chatter of hundreds of teenagers getting ready for another week of classes. Mondays. Cassius hated them.

"No, seriously," Montague insisted. "What crawled up your arse and died?"

A hush rippled across anybody within earshot, and Cassius threw his friend a disdainful glance before silently returning to his meal. He could practically feel everybody let out a collective sigh. Argument averted. Montague could be vicious, and Cassius could be irritably unresponsive. The two friends didn't argue often, but when they did, it tended to tilt towards the epic side, with Montague's voice rising in pitch with Cassius' every emotionless blink, until one of them finally snapped.

After breakfast, Montague confronted him in the loo, glaring at a couple of first years who quickly forgot about drying their hands and scampered out of the bathroom. Cassius waited for his friend to say something, as he knew Montague inevitably would, impatient with the silence that Cassius could carry on for an eternity.

"Why've you gone off the deep end?" Montague finally demanded, his eyes hard and scrutinizing.

"I haven't -

"Cut the bollocks, mate, you've been all - all _moody_ for the past month, I'd say. Since Hogsmeade at least -

_Shit_, had it been that obvious?

Of course it had been. Montague wasn't an imbecile, he'd been made captain of the Slytherin team for a reason. And anyway, hadn't they been best friends practically since birth?

"I need a stopper."

"I know you do - _what?_"

Montague stared at him incredulously. If he'd been expecting Cassius to lay down some big secret, _that_ hadn't been it.

Cassius crossed his arms and gave him a curt nod.

"You heard me."

Montague gaped openly at him. The door opened suddenly, and a fourth year tried to step in, though he quickly backed away after noticing the two Slytherin seventh-years throwing him death eyes.

"Why - what happened?"

Cassius didn't bother to grace the question with an answer. Montague gave him an irritated glance.

"I know what happened, you twat, I mean - _what happened_? Merlin's balls, mate, that's - it's _you_, we're talking about... No... no, it isn't, is it?" Montague paused and stared at him with an accusatory expression on his face. "It's a bird -

"It bloody well isn't a bloke," Cassius snapped.

Montague let out a low chuckle.

"You're in _love_," he said mockingly. "That's why you've been all -

"I'm _not_ in love," Cassius snarled, to which Montague replied with another cold laugh.

"That's fine," he chuckled, "Quite frankly I don't give a damn whether you're in love or not, though it bloody well explains a lot."

"I said -

"_I'm not in love!_" Montague murmured, a sly expression on his face. "I suppose you aren't going to tell me who it is."

"There's nothing to tell," Cassius replied through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, Montague's face took on a grave expression.

"It isn't a mudblood, is it?"

"Circe, no." _Worse_, he thought grimly.

Montague nodded.

"When did it happen? You know how it works, obviously."

Cassius shrugged.

"You're the potions master... that's why I'm asking you," he said pointedly.

Montague looked at him appraisingly, then leaned back against the sink.

"Well, I'd say... you're shit out of luck. It takes fourteen days to brew from scratch. And it's supposed to be taken within three days of, well, yeah... after you shag."

Cassius felt his blood drain from his head, and Montague patted his back in mock sympathy.

"Why doesn't she just go to Pomfrey? Old bat stocks more than St. Mungo's, what with all the slags around here..."

"I wouldn't have asked you if that were an option," Cassius answered numbly.

Montague suddenly propped himself upright, and gave Cassius a serious look.

"How bad is it?"

Cassius looked at him dumbly.

"How bad is what?"

Montague laughed frostily.

"She's not a third year or anything like that, is it?"

Cassius gave him a look of disgust.

"I'm not a bleeding _pedo_ -

"Just making sure... not one of those religious girls, either, eh?" Montague replied smoothly, giving him a cold look. "We've been friends long enough, you and I, and I know when something's up. So don't fuck with me, Cassius, or I'll make things... difficult for you. What. Did. You. Do." _  
_

They stared each other down, and Cassius had the uncomfortable sensation that Montague already knew everything, and that he'd been toying with him the entire time. Maybe it was the triumphant glint in his eye, the slight smirk that tugged at his lips -

"Go on," said Montague encouragingly.

Cassius licked his lips. The taste of copper shocked his tastebuds. His lips, perpetually dry, had cracked. He licked them again.

"I won't help you if won't help yourself," said Montague tauntingly.

"And how the bloody hell are you going to help me?"

Montague smirked.

"Don't you remember who helps Pomfrey on Sunday afternoons? How do you think I _know_ that she stocks so much of it?"

Cassius looked up sharply.

"So. What's it going to be, mate? You're running out of time here. We've class in five minutes, and I'll wager your _girl_ is running out of time too."

"It's Spinnet," Cassius muttered under his breath.

"What's that? I didn't hear you."

Cassius clenched his fists and stared into Montague's glittering green eyes.

"I _said, _it's Spinnet."

Montague gave him a curt nod, a full blown smirk now apparent on his face.

"That's what I thought."

The words echoed across the bathroom, and Cassius felt horror churn in his gut.

"You can't tell me you're all that surprised... you're usually rather discreet, so I couldn't help but notice that you've been quite... pre-occupied as of late. And, well, I know you went to go work on that _project _of yours with her last night... you're losing your touch, mate. Even Adrian's noticed you've been... well, out of sorts. And that's saying something."

Cassius felt sick, and Montague gave him a sly look.

"I'll have it for you by tonight."

He watched silently as Montague headed towards the door.

"What's the price?" he called out suddenly.

Montague turned around and gave him a mocking smile.

"No price. I just wanted to hear you say it."

Cassius let out a sharp breath.

"By the way, Cassius... if I were you, I'd sort this thing out while there's still time. I'm not going to say anything cause you're my best mate, but I can see where this is headed, even if _you_ can't."

"Oh yeah? And where's that?" he said scornfully.

Montague looked at him with a serious expression on his face, and Cassius tensed.

"A graveyard... DeWitt or not, her mother's still a blood-traitor, and you _know_ what's happening right now, just as well as I do... you have until we graduate if you're lucky, and even that isn't much time. But then again... you _did_ say you weren't in love, so I guess it doesn't really matter, hmm?"

Cassius scowled, and Montague blinked back at him.

"Why are you helping me?"

Montague gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Quid pro quo, mate. One day, I'm going to ask you for a favour... and you better deliver."

* * *

Alicia sat anxiously as Carson babbled on about his future plans to work for the IWC, the International Wizarding Council, with hopes of securing a paid internship upon graduation through an uncle who worked as a diplomat in South America. She kept her eyes on the door, waiting for Cassius to make an entrance, but he never did. When Babbling shut the door and asked somebody to collect the weekly progress reports, Alicia halfheartedly resigned herself to another two hours of waiting for a confirmation on the status of the stopper.

After class, Carson asked her if she wanted to accompany him and the boys to watch their practice. The Ravenclaw-Slytherin match was coming up around the corner, and Roger had them practicing during the pre-lunch breaks. Though she wanted to refuse, she found it hard to say no to Carson when he flashed her his big warm smile, and especially with the guilt that had been gnawing on her insides since the previous night. While they hadn't even gone to Hogsmeade yet, and it had only been two days since she'd snogged him in the corridor to spite Cassius, she had a horrible feeling that the poor boy was semi-infatuated with her. He'd been nothing but kind, and Alicia had already gone and... well, essentially cheated on him, if he thought of her as his new girlfriend. Not to mention... she felt bad enough as it was besides all of the above. While she'd stayed awake thinking all night, it had suddenly occurred to her that Carson might have broken up with his girlfriend over her, even if they'd only just been friends at the time... though it was clear to her now that he hadn't regarded her as 'just friends' for a while, if ever...

Alicia cast a warming charm on her robes and sat on the bleachers in the Gryffindor stands, watching as the Ravenclaws flew around the pitch. She cast a disdainful glance at the usual silly group of girls who giggled from the sidelines... was it just her or were they getting younger every year? Or maybe she was just getting older... A group of third year Gryffindors, much to her embarrassment, were two bleachers behind her, and Alicia was astonished by the crassness of their comments. Did _she_ ever speak like that at their age?

She let out a groan. She was starting to think like an old lady.

Suddenly, the girls behind her began tittering simultaneously, all giggles and and sly whispers. Alicia glanced behind her to glare at them, when she caught sight of Cassius heading towards her, a brooding expression on his face.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, hoping to god that Carson didn't see them together. The third years behind her were bad enough, and one of them dared to inform her in a loud, dramatic voice that she was "consorting with a Slytherin."

Alicia shot the girl a dirty look.

"Keep your comments to yourself, you little snot," she snapped. "We're talking business, not that it's any of your concern."

"And what sort of business would any decent Gryffindor have with a Slytherin?" the girl shot back, before glancing smugly at her giggling friends. "Even if he _is_ rather fit."

Cassius coughed uncomfortably, unsure of how to react to the bizarre situation. He'd never had confrontations with younger Gryffindors before, with the exception of Potter and Baby Weasley who were Quidditch rivals more than anything... if he did get into confrontatns with Gryffindors, they generally weren't any younger than in their sixth year, fifth years maybe if he was in a bad mood. These girls, despite their amateur and liberal use of glamour charms, were unable to hide the fact that they couldn't have been more than thirteen. He uncomfortably recalled Montague asking him if he'd shagged a third year. He watched with some amusement as Alicia told the girls off, with no less animosity than when she was dealing with Slytherins.

"We're talking _business__, _you brats, because we're partners for a bloody project. And take that cigarette out of your mouth before I report you -

"_You're_ going to tell on _me_?" the girl with dark hair exclaimed incredulously.

Cassius almost laughed. It was like watching a mother deal with a particularly snotty teenaged daughter, except in this case, the mother was only four years older, and just as bad. Cassius recalled Alicia's drunken Hogsmeade escapade with some irritation, as he caught sight of Bishop flying towards them.

"Oi, are you girls alright?"

Fucking Saint Bishop, knight in shining armour, always to the rescue.

The girl with the dark hair had stamped out her cigarette, and was now beaming up at Bishop.

"Oh, we're fine," she said, standing up. "I'm Romilda by the way, Romilda Vane -

"Alicia?" said Bishop, cutting the girl off, "What's _he _doing here?"

Alicia sighed in frustration.

"Nothing. We were _trying_ to discuss the assignment but these little shits wouldn't shut up."

Carson looked at her in surprise.

"Alicia, they're only second years -

"Er, we're actually third years."

Carson shot them an irritated glance, and Alicia looked at him pointedly to say, S_ee? They're little shits!_

"Alright," he said grudgingly, "I should get back... though you'd better take _him_ away before Roger thinks he's spying."

"I'm right here, Bishop," Cassius announced, "So if you've got something to say -

"Warrington, you've got three seconds to get the hell out of here, before I send a bludger to your face."

The girls gasped at the sight of drama.

"Cassius!" Alicia exclaimed, and all heads snapped in her direction. She felt her face flush at the verbal slip-up. She glanced at Carson, who was staring at her, astonished. She rolled her eyes in irritation.

"What?" she said defensively, "It's annoying referring to someone by their last name every two seconds when you're working with them. And anyway, _Warrington_ is three bloody syllables long!"

Cassius shot Bishop a smug glance, but Alicia shoved him back towards the exit before he could say anything to antagonize the prick any further.

Alicia glanced back apologetically at Carson, who was bobbing up and down on his broom, looking irritated.

"You'll be okay?" he asked her, and she felt even worse as Cassius snorted under his breath.

"I'll be fine," she replied reassuringly, giving Carson a bright smile. He threw Cassius another dirty look before flashing her a grin.

"Alright, I'll see you later then."

"Wanker," Cassius muttered.

"Why do you always have treat him like that?" Alicia asked angrily.

"Like what?" Cassius shot back. "He's a tosser, if I ever met one. Anyway, _he's _the one who flew over looking for a fight."

Alicia glared at him disdainfully.

"Yes, because you're a Slytherin! And you're on the team! Obviously they would think you were spying or something, and anyway, I wouldn't put it past Montague -

"Don't talk shit about him," said Cassius coldly, cutting her off. "You have no idea what kind of bollocks you'd be in right now if it weren't for him."

"Me?" Alicia said incredulously. "What are you talking about?"

She fell silent, as they passed by a group of Slytherin girls, who eyed her with suspicion. Alicia sighed in irritation. This _would_ happen. The girls gave her the once-over, and Alicia could only imagine what they were thinking. Slytherin bitches were worse than their male counterparts... the boys were more openly aggressive, all about quick duels and shoving matches on occasion. The girls liked to fight dirty, fans of the school of thought that said revenge was a dish best served cold. More than one girl who had crossed their path had ended up with a surprise period a few days later, telltale streaks of blood staining the backs of their skirts, or pimples and warts that simply wouldn't disappear no matter how many glamours were cast or potions taken.

"Cassius, what're you doing with _her_?" said Charlene Cartel, the leader of her snooty little pack. She was the prettiest out of the four, a tall auburn-haired girl with long, lean legs, an ample chest, and big eyes that led one to believe she was the most innocent creature on the planet. And then she opened her mouth, and she spewed nothing but nastiness. _  
_

"We're working on a bloody assignment," Alicia snapped, annoyed at having to repeat herself at anyone who looked at them. Admittedly, they made an odd sight, the two rival chasers walking side by side in an almost amicable-seeming manner, but still!

Cartel threw her a filthy look.

"I'm not asking you, you fat halfblood bitch," the girl sneered. Her friends laughed, and Alicia reached for her wand. Cassius grabbed her wrist, and she glared at him angrily.

"Let go of me, you prick!"

"Shut up," he snapped. "I'm saving your stupid arse from detention so that we don't screw up our next report like you undoubtedly did this one."

The girls burst out laughing, and Alicia found herself shaking in anger.

"I'd watch myself if I were you, Spinnet," said Charlene coyly, as she and her friends walked by. Alicia snarled obscenities at her the girls walked away, still laughing.

Cassius dropped her arm when the girls were out of sight.

"Fuck you," Alicia hissed. She rubbed her wrist angrily. "You bloody bruised me!"

Cassius looked down at her wrist, and sure enough, there was a bruise... and it was much too set to be recent. He looked at her darkly.

"I might have bruised you," he said in a low voice, "But that isn't from today."

Alicia flushed, and Cassius smirked at her. They walked in silence, until suddenly, they couldn't move anymore.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Alicia snarled, looking up angrily. "This is rot, absolute rot - how is anybody supposed to bloody walk around this place until the holidays?"

"Just kiss her already, mate," somebody drawled from behind them.

Alicia felt the blood drain from her face. Montague. She suddenly remembered what Cassius had said about not shit talking Montague, something about how she would have been in trouble if it weren't for him... But no... of course he couldn't know, Cassius wouldn't tell - would he? No, of course not... He'd have more to lose than she would - she didn't have a family waiting to cut her head off for shagging somebody of different 'blood'...

Cassius cursed the prefects, and Yule and all of its stupid traditions as Montague sauntered into sight.

"Go on then, what are you waiting for?"

"Fuck off, Montague!"

"Watch your mouth, Spinnet," said Montague maliciously, "Or you might find yourself in a rather... unfortunate situation... what is it they say again? Oh. Right. History repeats itself, I believe the adage goes? But then again, you'll have to correct me if I'm wrong... I dropped History of Magic to take... Potions."

Alicia's eyes grew wide with shock, and she glanced at Cassius whose face was grim. So. He'd told.

"Or maybe you should do the kissing, Spinnet, seeing as to how you're so good at it... I'm sure you gave Bishop the best snog of his life the other day."

Cassius tensed next to her, and Alicia scowled as Montague circled them like a shark before leaning against the wall, looking as though he were waiting for a show to begin.

"Don't tell me it takes you two this long to get started... no wonder you've been in such a shitty mood, mate. What, did Spinnet here not put out 'til yesterday?"

Alicia flushed in anger, and Montague gaped at her, wide-eyed.

"Well, well, you don't say..."

Alicia quickly pecked Cassius on the lips, and pulled away once she felt the charm's binds release them. Montague clapped slowly.

"You're a prick," Alicia hissed, glaring at Montague.

"My, my, aren't we thankful? How's this for a deal... how 'bout you give me a kiss and maybe I'll forgive you. And maybe I'll even give you a little gift. Three guesses for you to tell me what you think it is."

Montague whipped out a tiny glass vial filled with a murky purple liquid and smirked at Cassius.

"I figured you've never had any problems with sharing before," said Montague. "So you won't mind if Spinnet here gives me a kiss to apologize for her rudeness, do you?"

_There's always a price_, Cassius thought angrily, recalling their earlier conversation. Montague's eyes glittered as he turned to Alicia, who looked horrified by the thought. But her eyes flickered between the little glass vial and Cassius, who stared back at her with a stony expression. Montague smirked.

"What are you looking at him for, _Alicia_, he doesn't care if you snog me or not... we could shag right here, and he wouldn't give a damn, isn't that right, mate?"

Cassius gritted his teeth, but said nothing. Fucking Graham and his games. He'd made his point and he knew it. Cassius was trapped between admitting that he had deeper feelings for Alicia (which he bloody well didn't!), or watching them snog. And knowing Montague, it wouldn't be a chaste peck on the lips. After all... he'd denied having any feelings for her, and Montague was right in calling him out on not usually caring about sharing his girls. He swore inwardly.

"So what's it going to be, hmm? I don't want to miss lunch, and you can understand that I don't want to be seen snogging you when class lets out..."

"Then why do you want me to kiss you at all?" Alicia demanded incredulously.

Montague smiled coolly.

"Oh, well it'd be fun! Don't you ever plays chess, Spinnet? Drives you mad, doesn't it, but when you win..."

Alicia glanced back at Cassius once more, but his face was still unreadable, though his eyes were radiating flames. She looked back at Montague, who'd pocketed the vial and was standing now, arms crossed in front of her. Alicia swallowed uncomfortably.

"Fine," she hissed angrily. "One kiss. No tongue."

"_You_ don't make the rules," said Montague, "But I agree. One kiss. Like... hm, like you kissed Bishop the other day, and _not_ that pathetic display I just saw. With tongue. And if you bite me or do anything unpleasant in any sort of way, deal's off. Hell, you might as well enjoy it, Spinnet... I know I will."

Montague threw Cassius a smug look, and Cassius clenched his fists in his pockets, fingers stroking his wand and his grandfather's flask. _Fucking Montague, mother fucker - _

Alicia struggled not to feel debased as Montague's tongue creeped past her lips, and she kissed him back in shame, feeling hot tears of anger pricking at her eyes as her tongue brushed against his thin, unfamiliar lips.

Cassius' mind went blank with rage as he watched his best friend cup his girl's face with one hand and grab her ass with the other, tongue shoved down her throat as he kissed her.

_Your girl? Really?_

_**Fuck off!  
**_

Montague finally pulled away after a torturous eternity, then looked straight into Cassius' eyes, expression blank but severe.

"Sort your shit out," was all he said as he handed him the glass vial from his pocket, before silently strolling away.

A dry, choked sob broke the silence when Montague's footsteps disappeared into the distance as he turned the corner of the corridor, and Cassius turned around, shaking in anger.

Alicia wiped furiously at her eyes, and Cassius could hear her erratic breathing as she tried not to cry. It was a sorry sight.

They heard a door slam somewhere in the distance, followed by the distant chatter of two dozen students pouring out of a classroom. The bell rang as if on cue, and the corridors roared to life as other students escaped their classes for a much needed break.

"C'mon," Cassius muttered, pushing Alicia forward.

Alicia walked quickly with her head down and her hood up, following behind Cassius, who walked while keeping his eyes on the ceilings for mistletoe. They dodged trapped students squirming uncomfortably as their friends and passer-bys laughed, until they found themselves pushing against a tide of Hufflepuffs leaving their common room, on their way to the Great Hall. Alicia followed at a distance, unwilling to be seen too close to a Slytherin. There'd been too many close calls already, and she had friends in Hufflepuff. Mercifully, with her hood up, nobody stopped her, and Alicia soon found herself standing by the giant painting of fruit that led to the kitchens.

Cassius reached up and tickled the pear, which was the oddest sight Alicia had ever seen, but she was too upset to laugh. The pear squirmed and giggled, and transformed into a doorknob.

"After you," he grunted, pushing the door open wide, revealing ninety-nine scrambling house elves running back and forth, shouting at each other in their odd English as they sent food up to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Mr. Warrington!" one of the elves squeaked in fear, eyes flickering back and forth between its hurried colleagues and Cassius' frowning face. "Why is you not in the Great Hall?"

"If I wanted to eat in the Great Hall, I would _be_ in the Great Hall," he snapped irritably.

"No need to be so rude," Alicia muttered disapprovingly.

"So, she speaks," Cassius retorted, as the little house elf led them towards the large brick fireplace at the other end of the room.

"Don't bow," said Alicia as house elves stopped working to bow and scrape before them when they passed through the room. "No, it's okay - just, er, get back to work."

She could never get used to the idea of ordering people about. Or house elves, for that matter. It just... didn't feel right. Lord... maybe Hermione had gotten to her on some subconscious level.

"Dobby wil bring sir and miss food and drink."

They sat in silence by the fire, listening to the hustle and bustle of the house elves, and the clattering of the pots and pans.

Cassius stared blankly at Alicia's face, and all he could picture was Montague's teeth grazing her lips, tongue slipping into her mouth as he'd been forced to passively watch like an imbecile as she'd kissed him back, teary eyes wide open in anger and shame. In a fit of angry jealousy, Cassius tilted her chin up and pressed his lips furiously against hers. He could have sworn he caught a whiff of Montague's aftershave against her soft skin, and he felt his blood boil in his veins. He kissed her harder still, and she kissed him back with a desperation that made him sick to the stomach. _  
_

Alicia melted against him, frantic for the familiarity of his lips, his smell and his taste. She hadn't realized that the taste of Montague had been in the back of her throat, the feel of him haunting her, until Cassius had kissed her, and it occurred to her with a sudden freshness what had transpired in the past ten minutes or indeed, in the last twenty-four hours. She revelled in the feel of him against her, the familiarity of his perpetually dry lips, which were fuller than Montague's soft thin ones. Cassius' smell took over her senses with a speed that she was grateful for, his warm heavy woody scent overwhelming the fresh coolness that Montague had left on her skin.

They were interrupted by a tiny, bashful squeak, and Cassius pulled away long enough to shoot a dirty glare at the house elf, Dobby. Alicia gave the elf an apologetic smile.

"Thank you, Dobby is it? It's really nice of you to bring us all this food, I know you're all so busy right now -

"Don't think him, it's his job," said Cassius. "And anyway, he'll just go and run his against the wall if you do. They don't like it when you thank them."

Dobby had scurried away, sensing a brewing argument, and Alicia glared at Cassius.

"Look what you did!"

Cassius rolled his eyes.

"I _have_ house elves. I'm telling you, I know you think you're being kind or whatever, but they don't like it. Alright, maybe that one does, but he's the exception."

Alicia looked at him strangely.

"And how do you know that? Not all house elves are the same, just like humans aren't all the same -

"Seriously? You want to argue about _house-elves_? _Now_?" said Cassius incredulously as he picked up a mini pot pie and put it on his plate. "And anyway, I know _that _house-elf, and I'm telling you, he's the exception."

"What do you mean you _know_ him? He's yours?"

Cassius wrinkled his nose.

"No, he used to belong to the Malfoys."

Alicia made a face, and a sympathetic noise.

"Eat," Cassius muttered after a heavy silence, noticing that Alicia hadn't touched her plate.

"I'm not really hungry," Alicia replied.

"I wasn't asking."

"Well you're not the bloody boss of me -

"Alicia," said Cassius in a stony voice, setting down his fork and knife. "If I'm telling you to eat, it's not because I get my jollies from watching you shovel down a bloody pie, OK? So stop being so fucking difficult and eat your goddamn food, or you can spend the next three hours over the sodding toilet spewing out bile and potion and merlin knows what else. And then you know where that'll leave us? Back to square one. And I doubt that Montague will be inclined to be so fucking generous with his _offer_ the next time."

Alicia looked up at him with a stricken expression on her face, and Cassius shut himself down, refusing to feel bad. He stabbed at his pie and shoved a forkful into his mouth to avoid having to speak.

They ate in silence.

Ten minutes later, Alicia shoved her empty plate forward, and slammed her fork down next to it, announcing, "There. I'm done."

She was being trite and she knew it, but she was angry and humiliated. She remembered the feeling of Montague's lips over hers, his horrid grip on her ass, and most of all, Cassius' stonewall of a face when Montague had oh so casually asked him if it bothered him to share. The barely perceptible shrug. The acquiescence.

What did it matter?

Of course it didn't. Who the hell was she to assume that it would? _No Romance_, she thought icily, Cassius' favourite words. _You're just another one of his slags._ _He likes to share._

Fine, let him treat her like a slag. She'd spent two summers sleeping around without a second thought. She _was_ a slag. Let him be another faceless, nameless fuck. It didn't matter. It didn't bloody matter because she didn't like him anyway. He just shagged better than the others, that was all.

_Keep telling yourself that_.

_**I don't care**_**. **

"Here," Cassius muttered, sliding the tiny vial across the table. Alicia stared down at it with a blank expression before reaching out for it. The vial was warm to the touch. She popped open the top and gagged at the smell, an indescribable odour that reminded her of her great-grandfather's retiring home.

"I just drink it?"

"That's the idea."

"No need to get snippy," Alicia sneered. She plugged her nose and knocked it back, gasping at the foul taste. It was a thick syrupy liquid, warmer on her tongue than in the vial, and it burned on its way down, tasting worse than it smelled.

"Any nausea?"

"Did you smell that thing?"

Cassius stared at her blankly, unimpressed.

"Stomachache, cramps? Anything?"

"No," she muttered. "It's bloody disgusting though."

Cassius stood up, and rubbed the back of his neck, yawning. Exhaustion suddenly fell upon him as though he'd been hit by a bludger. Alicia felt sleepy just looking at him. They looked awkwardly at each other.

"You going to History?" she finally asked, for lack of anything better to say.

Cassius snorted.

"Like we have a choice. Good place to fall asleep, though."

Alicia nodded in agreement.

"So..."

Cassius sighed in irritation then crossed his arms over his chest.

"Look, let's not make this any more awkward than it already is, alright? If you want to keep shagging... then fine. We can work something out... And don't worry about Montague, I'll deal with him later. If you don't, then that's fine too. We finish the assignment and that's that. Back to normal. We pretend like nothing ever happened."

Alicia stared at him incredulously.

"You want me to make up my mind _now_?"

"If not now, then when? I don't want to prolong this... this _intermediate_ waiting business. I've had enough of it. We've spent three bloody months of it, so you need to make up your mind. We've already shagged, so now you know what it's like. Yes or no."

Alicia remembered the previous night's events, which had gotten them into this mess in the first place. She put her hands on her hips, then looked up at him. Typical Cassius, as expressionless as ever, she thought scornfully.

"Well what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Stop being difficult," said Alicia mockingly. "You know what. What do you want to do?"

"I asked you first."

"Really? You want to play that game?"

"Just answer the question, Alicia."

Alicia looked at him with a smug smile.

"You want to keep shagging," she said.

He rolled his eyes.

"Oh yeah? Been taking divination, have we? And how do you figure that?"

She smirked.

"You said so yourself, everything goes back to normal if we stop... stop whatever it is that we're doing."

"So?"

"So, _Cassius_, if everything was back to normal, you wouldn't be standing here right now. You would have said _answer the question, Spinnet._"

"That's what I said," he retorted impatiently.

"No, you didn't." She paused, then looked at him in the eyes. "You called me _Alicia_."

* * *

That night, Cassius stumbled his way over to see Montague in his captain's office, and was unhappily reminded of that feeling he always had when summoned to his father's office at home. It ticked him off to no end.

He knocked sharply on the door, and waited for Montague to come to the door.

"Thought you might show up at some point," said his friend, looking utterly unsurprised by Cassius' impromptu visit. He frowned suddenly, and peered into Cassius' eyes, sniffing slightly.

"Are you pissed, mate? Circe, you smell like a bloody tavern." He smirked. "Well. This should be interesting."

Cassius scowled at him. Montague simply crossed his arms and looked at him with an amused expression on his face.

"You going to just stand there all night, or did you come here to say something?"

Cassius stared angrily at Montague, then hissed, "Why did you do it?"

Montague smiled coyly.

"Do what? I only did as you asked... I got you the damned potion, didn't I?"

"Fuck you, Graham, you know what I'm talking about."

"Swearing at me won't get you very far," Montague replied silkily as he went around his desk to sit down in his chair. He motioned for Cassius to sit, and again, he was reminded of his father's chastising summons, and it chafed his nerves.

"Why," said Cassius through gritted teeth, "Did you make her kiss you?"

Montague leaned back in his chair and took a swig out of a bottle of butterbeer sitting on his desk.

"I'd offer you one," he said casually, "But looks to me as though somebody's already drank his way through a brewery. What were you saying again? Oh, right. That. Well, as far as I'm aware, I didn't make Spinnet kiss me, she did it voluntarily."

"She never would have if you hadn't threatened her," Cassius snapped.

Montague smirked.

"You think so? She seemed pretty eager to suck the life out of Bishop's face the other day... you should really watch out for girls like that, you know, if you want to get all possessive."

"I'm not bleeding possessive!"

Montague let out a laugh.

"Exactly my point. You're _not _possessive. Not normally. So why's Spinnet any different? Hell, we've shagged girls together and you never gave a damn."

He took another sip of his butterbeer, then looked seriously into Cassius' eyes.

"You might hate me right now, but I just did you the biggest favour of your goddamn life. I could see why you might want to keep her all to yourself, though it's rather selfish of you... Pucey's been all over her arse since fifth year, don't you know? And she's quite good at kissing, I know _I _was surprised. Does she suck cock just as well? _Sit down_, Cassius. You want to look at me now and tell me that you still don't love her? That it didn't bother you to watch us have a proper snog?"

Cassius said nothing, willing himself not to strangle his best friend to death, and Montague nodded, standing up to meet his gaze face to face.

"That's what I thought. Think about it this way, mate. If I didn't come along when I did, you'd probably still be in denial 'til graduation. Then you'd really be fucked. I just sped up the process."

"And how is that in anyway a goddamn favour?"

"Because. Now you can work on cutting her out of your life before it's too late. And something tells me that six months from now would have been too late." He paused, then looked gravely into Cassius' eyes. "I don't know, though. Maybe it already is."

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	11. Chapter 11 - Rated M

**Guest: I will try to answer you questions the best that I can, thanks for the comprehensive review, I really really appreciate it :) **

**1) The Shakespearean connect - to be honest, I had to think about what you meant for a second, then it all came back to me... Romeo and Juliet, the ninth grade... write about when I started writing horrible fanfiction lol... maybe on some subconscious level there is a Shakespearean connect with Montague and the potion. I really have no idea. I haven't done any character development beforehand, to be honest, so all the characters sort of just write themselves. **

**2) The Warringtons - hopefully this chapter answers a bit more of your curiosity regarding their affiliations. I would say they're more supporters, but much too... Slytherin to risk their actual lives in battles to support an ideology that isn't guaranteed to put them in the best position if the Dark Lord is on the losing end of a potential war. **

**3) Alicia's mother is still alive and kicking. The reason why Alicia didn't want to write a letter to her is... well, because she's a teenager. Who wants to admit to their parents that they've been sleeping around, especially given the circumstances... admitting that she would need a stopper would lead to some uncomfortable questions as to the identity of her partner, and more questions about her sexual history (most of which she was too drunk to properly remember haha). **

**Anyway, hopefully this chapter will help to answer some of your questions in addition to the answers I've provided. Let me know how I do with this one btw. There is an explicit scene towards the end, and again, I had some trouble writing it, but I felt like it was important to include as part of the dynamic between Cassius and Alicia. **

**If you guys think it really sucks, let me know because if you prefer I go back to a T rating, that can be arranged. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Three weeks passed by with a suddenness that Alicia had not anticipated, and when the double-trouble weekend of the Ravenclaw-Slytherin match and a Hogsmeade visit loomed near, she felt a rise in anxiety that had her nerve-wrecked. Even the prospects of Quidditch tryouts, which Angelina had announced the day before, could not quell her nervousness. Things had begun to heat up with both Cassius and Carson over the past three weeks, and she felt helplessly alone in dealing with the situation, unable to turn to either Katie or Angelina for advice.

Cassius was no big help either. He'd been a moody roller coaster since the potions incident with Montague, and while they'd continued shagging on the side on Sundays, _after_ working on their weekly reports, something had changed in him. He could be taciturn and volatile one second, then he could look at her with such clear frankness the next that it made her squirm. When Alicia mentioned her fear to him that her relationship with Carson seemed to be getting serious, his answer was simply, "I told you, I'll throw him off his broom," which only tripled her anxiety for their upcoming match, and left her even more confused as to his feelings towards her.

Carson's growing infatuation with her was a bigger source of anxiety to her than Cassius' mood swings, as was the coming of Yule. Alicia was desperately hanging on, hoping that she could make it to their date in Hogsmeade without snapping, but when the weekend finally arrived, she was a wreck. Carson was, simply put, singlehandedly the most gentlemanly person Alicia had ever met. He'd spent three weeks being his usual kind self, only he became more and more of every little girl's dream with each passing day, sending her lovely notes on days they couldn't see each other for more than five minutes at a time, conjuring flowers for her whenever they went 'out', strolling the castle grounds... hell, he didn't even try to cop a feel until two days earlier, and even then, he'd asked her permission first. The word 'no' had been on the tip of her tongue, but she hadn't dared say it, her Gryffindor courage all but dissipated in the face of guilt. She found herself comparing him with Cassius whenever they were together, and it made her feel even worse. When Carson's hand had slipped under her bra that first time, she'd nearly jumped out of her skin. It had taken all her effort not to cringe. The worst part was, Carson was a dream. He was actually the sort of boy that Alicia had always dreamed about, the sort of boy who would sweep her off her feet. But the fact was, the devil had gotten to her first, and she was doomed. Guilt ate away at her every second of the day.

That he was her escort to the debutante ball made things that much worse. Alicia knew she couldn't break things off with him at this point, and certainly not until she at least made her coming out, but she truly feared what might happen if Carson wanted to take things further. His hand on her breast had made her stomach churn in guilt and in discomfort. It made her shudder to even recall the feeling, and Alicia didn't dare analyze why. In fact, in the last three weeks, she'd completely stopped even thinking about her relationship with Cassius, the mechanisms behind it, the whys and the what will happens that had driven her insane since their first kiss. It was simply safer not to dwell on it. With each D.A. practice and each new whisper of witches and wizards reported dead or missing, Alicia became increasingly aware of the divisional split that was going to draw a line in the wizarding world. She knew she'd already chosen her side (not that she had any other choice), and something in her broke every time she realized that Cassius was not on it. She didn't dare dwell on it. It wouldn't do.

The day of the match, Alicia and the rest of Gryffindor House appeared in the Great Hall sporting Ravenclaw blue and bronze. Alicia had charmed her school skirt blue, put on the tie that Carson had given her with a grin (_"For good luck!"_), and slipped on the same golden headband she'd worn on the day of her own match against Slytherin. _  
_

Merlin, how far away that seemed now.

She felt a strange pinch of guilt as she laid out her clothes though, and so she pulled out a matching set of lace lingerie that had a tiny silver bell with a ribbon in the centre of both the bra and knickers, and she charmed the fabric green. Hastily, without analyzing why she'd done it, she threw them on and then slipped into her skirt, blouse and Carson's tie, before placing the golden headband on her head.

Alicia scanned the Great Hall as she, Katie and Angelina stepped in. Cassius caught her eye first, and she could practically feel the stormy irritation brewing behind his stony face as he took in her attire. But then Carson, whose table was adjacent to the Slytherins', waved her over, and Alicia was forced to tear her eyes away from Cassius' burning stare.

"I'm just going to go say hi to Carson," she said quickly, glancing at her friends as they smirked at her.

"Tell him to beat those snakes down," said Angelina vehemently, as Alicia quickly walked away.

Alicia desperately wanted to avoid having to pass between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, but found it would be impossible to do so without looking stupid, for if she chose to go in between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, she would have to go all the way down the aisle towards the professors' table, then turn, and come back up the other side anyway. Though she'd be exposed to the Slytherins for less time that way, it was a long silly route to take.

She put on her grin-and-bear-it face, and quickly made her way over to the Ravenclaw table. Carson was sitting at the end of the Ravenclaw table closest to the staff table with the rest of the Ravenclaw team, where Roger was briefing them amidst the chatter. The Slytherin team was at the opposite end of their table, closest to the doors leading to the Great Hall, also being briefed by Montague. Alicia felt Cassius' eyes slide over her as she walked past him, but she kept her gaze evenly focused on the Ravenclaws.

Carson was sitting on the side adjacent to the Slytherins, his back to them, and when Alicia finally made it to him, he gave her an ear-splitting grin and stood up to give her a kiss. When she finally pulled away, Carson bent down and whispered into her ear, "I'll make sure to give them a proper beating."

"Hey Alicia, good to see you too," said Roger loudly, causing her to blush.

"Hey Roger, sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say good luck out there!" she said brightly. Roger grinned.

"I was just kidding. But thanks! We'll definitely try our best. We've got a few tricks up our sleeves, let's just say."

Alicia wished the rest of the team luck, said a couple of quick hellos to some of her other Ravenclaw friends, then quickly headed towards her own table, thankful that she could cut across in front of the staff table. She joined Katie and Angelina for breakfast, and the girls chatted amongst themselves about the upcoming game.

"I really don't know about this one," Angelina was saying as Alicia squeezed in next to her. "Montague's upped the game since we won the last match. Not that Davies hasn't either, but Montague's gone round the bend if you ask me... I haven't even seen the Squid around, it's been so cold, but he still has them swimming around in the Lake at the bloody crack of dawn."

"Well we'll just have to see, won't we?" said Katie, shrugging. "The Ravenclaws will have to score like maniacs to keep up with points if they lose the snitch."

After breakfast, they joined the rest of the school in crowding onto the stands, and Alicia relaxed into the crowd, feeling much better about being camouflaged amongst the crowd of blue and bronze. She didn't want either Cassius or Carson to be able to see her, much less make eye contact, and being just another faceless person in the crowd made her feel relaxed for the first time in three weeks.

Watching Quidditch was always strange compared to playing it. When she was a little girl, her mother had taken her to see a local game, and she'd fallen in love. While her parents had never been able to afford to send her to the sumer camps or have her sign up for the junior leagues, in the summer at the DeWitt villa, her grandfather occasionally snuck her onto an old broom whenever her grandmother was out. It was probably the one thing that Alicia could say she loved about her two weeks with her grandparents. Though she obviously preferred to be on the broom than off it, watching a game (especially if it was high-intensity offensive) was always exhilarating. The Ravenclaw-Slytherin match would be interesting because of the clash of styles. Roger definitely preferred an intricate defensive game, and Montague's style was the exact opposite. But Alicia had a feeling that Roger's usual exhaust-the-opponent method wasn't going to work as easily with the Slytherins this year, not with the madness they called training on their side.

When Hooch released the whistle and the balls flew into the air, the crowd rose to their feet in a simultaneous motion, cheering loudly as Lee Jordan drawled out his usual entertaining comments. Quidditch at Hogwarts simply wouldn't be the same without him, she mused, and pitied the next generation of students. Another last, her brain reminded her solemnly.

The Slytherins were definitely on the offensive, but interestingly, so were the Ravenclaws. A last minute change of tactic, the crowd remarked excitedly, and the Ravenclaw offensive was definitely as well coordinated as their defensive, though perhaps not as aggressive as the Slytherins. This was going to be an interesting match.

Half an hour into the game, there was a snitch spotting, causing the crowd to go into a frenzy, but a well-timed bludger from Carson sent Malfoy spinning off course. The Slytherins were up by ten.

Two hours later, exhaustion began to set in. The Ravenclaws had been playing the defensive for at least half an hour now, but it was clear that their starting offensive play had drained them. The Slytherins, meanwhile, kept up their onslaught, albeit their passes were getting sloppier as the minutes ticked by.

The wind howled in the air, and it was a wet cold that bit into the skin. Despite reapplied warming charms, even the crowd was starting to feel restless. Just when Alicia thought she couldn't handle it anymore, she watched as Cho Chang and Malfoy suddenly skyrocketed into the air from opposite ends of the pitch as the noise in the stands tripled.

She watched with baited breath as Carson winded up to send a bludger towards Malfoy, but just as his bat was about to collide with the ball, another came flying from the direction of the Slytherin end of the pitch, and she watched in horror as Carson took a direct hit in the arms. She could practically hear the crunch of his bones, and half the crowd let out a sound of disgust as he slumped forward in obvious pain, unable to grasp his broom due to his broken arms. His bat clattered to the floor and shattered, sending shards of wood spraying into the air.

The crowd screamed as Carson's broom veered wildly about, and it was clear he was holding on by the sheer strength of his thighs while his mangled arms dangled about by his sides. Simultaneously, the Slytherin stands erupted into cheers as it became clear who had won the match. Alicia didn't care. She found her eyes drifting towards Cassius, who was still clutching Goyle's bat, looking grimly triumphant, while the bat-less Slytherin beater hovered stupidly next to him.

"That prick," Angelina fumed as the girls exited the stands as fast they could. "What a way to win, absolutely disgusting."

Alicia agreed, but they all knew that Cassius had committed the move without a single foul. There was nothing in the books about another playing seizing his own beater's bat, and still less about aiming a bludger at an opponent beater.

Still, it disturbed her nevertheless that he had so unhesitatingly broken Carson's arms when he could have simply aimed the bludger for his bat. Something in her gut told her that the move had been a little bit on the personal side.

When Alicia arrived at the Hospital Wing, the rest of the Carson's teammates were just leaving, and she felt a sting of guilt as she looked into their disappointed faces, clearly suffering from their loss.

"Hey Alicia," said Peter glumly. "Here to see Carson, I guess?"

"Yeah," she replied, "How's he doing?"

"He'll be fine... thank god for magic, eh? Bloody Warrington shattered his bones, he'll be in for a couple nights with Skele-Gro. Anyway, see you around, yeah?"

Alicia cringed at the mention of the deadly concoction. Nobody played quidditch without experiencing the lovely delights Skele-Gro had to offer. While single breaks in larger bones could generally be mended with a few spells, the nature of quidditch led to most breaks being too severe or too delicate for such simple remedies. In such cases, the broken bones had to be vanished and regrown, as was apparently the case with Carson's arms. Alicia had experienced something similar when she'd taken a bad fall in her second year, and her entire foot had more or less disintegrated into a thousand little pieces. She shuddered at the memory.

Suddenly, she realized with awful pleasure that Carson would be in the Hospital Wing for another day, possibly two, and that he wouldn't be able to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow with her after all. God, had she ever felt so guilty in her entire life? If only she hadn't said yes, if only she hadn't kissed him that day... she was sure that he wouldn't have taken it badly, and they would have remained friends, and everything would have been so much less complicated...

Her brain snidely reminded her that everything would have been so much less complicated if it weren't for Cassius, and she sighed unhappily as she pushed open the door to the Hospital Wing, trying hard not to let her guilt show. Mercifully, Carson was knocked out, and she asked Madame Pomfrey to let him know that she'd swung by before quickly escaping the sombre room.

* * *

At lunch after the match, Montague congratulated the team on a game well played, rewarding Malfoy with one of his rare smiles which had the younger boy preening.

Cassius and Montague's relationship had been somewhat strained over the past three weeks, which even Pucey had noticed (though he hadn't dared question them about it), but they remained friends nevertheless. Cassius knew that Montague had done what he'd done partly out of anger, and partly out of concern. He also knew Montague well enough to know that the games he played weren't personal - it was simply how he dealt with life, ever the chess master. Even as young as the age of four, Montague knew how to twist a person's arm through a mindfuck. But still... it grated on his nerves whenever his friend shot him his knowing looks when he came back to the dorm on Sunday nights, or as he did now, whilst wryly congratulating him on his excellent marksmanship and contribution to helping Malfoy catch the snitch.

Cassius scanned the Great Hall as Montague and Pucey grumbled about Yule. Pucey had, thus far, avoided any attempts on his family's part to shackle him with Flint's half-sister, "the horsey faced one with the fit bod", but the pressure was coming down on him. His father had sunk their finances last year in the same sad speculation scheme that had brought down a couple other good families, and was now barely managing to stay afloat. The Puceys were down to their one London townhouse and a country house in Wales, having been forced to exchange the rest of their properties to various relatives for financial security. The Flint sisters were far from the loveliest ladies on the market, as indicated by the fact that they hadn't been courted since their coming-out some five years earlier. Old Flint was getting nervous. Finances be damned, the girls had a dowry fit for a king. He just wanted to see them wed and bed and with child before he crawled off into his death bed. The Puceys were a fine family with good genes, not a single child born with a deformation since seventeen-eighty three. History of madness? Limited, a couple odd ones here and there over the last three centuries... Squibs? One, and not in living memory. And Adrian was a good looking boy, the sort who could have easily had his pick of the lot were it not for his family's unfortunate financial situation. It was clear that the Flints and the Puceys were looking to get everything in writing by the New Year. And so far, Adrian hadn't managed to snag a single prospective girl to save him from his impending doom.

The Mark had been mentioned more frequently too. Oh, it was never spoken about explicitly, but it came up. Especially whenever Pucey had a freak out about his potentially pending nuptials. They knew that once the holidays came rolling around, their fathers would call for them to discuss the matter more closely in person. With graduation round the bend, and the undoubtable stirrings in the wizarding underworld, the boys would have to make a decision, and they would have to do it soon.

The three of them were lucky, Cassius mused, in that their fathers hadn't been involved in the first war. Not directly, anyhow... they wouldn't be as pressured to take the Mark as say, Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy, whose fathers were very highly regarded members of the Dark Lord's inner circle. But if they were to avoid taking the Mark, then the financial consequences would be steep... Cassius and Montague could afford to fund their way out of taking the Mark by financing the Dark Lord's operations if they so chose, as their fathers had done the first time around. Pucey, on the other hand, no longer had that choice. It was take the Mark or take the wife. Both, if push came to shove.

As Cassius glanced around the Great Hall, he tried to estimate the number of students who were actually purebloods, and found the number to be slim. Most of them had at least a half-blood somewhere in the line, if not all. He tried to think of a single 'pureblood' family that hadn't blasted a wayward member off a family tree at some point in their history. It was a matter of illusion, really. Most of the truly pure families had died out with the last century thanks to the combined factors of dwindling wealth and health, attributed to too much in-breeding. Not to mention, there was the simultaneous abolishment of titles with the whirlwind of changes in wizarding bureaucracy... if his parents were still referred to as Lord and Lady Warrington, it was more out of respect now than because of any actual social obligation.

"Cassius."

"What?"

Montague shot him an annoyed glance.

"I was _saying_ that I spoke with Flint and some of the scouts before lunch. The Bombers were pretty impressed with you, they'll be inviting you to closed try-outs in August, provided you improve on passes. Their scout said he'll be coming back."

Cassius scoffed. He'd been playing Quidditch for practically his entire life, some of his earliest memories consisting of Montague dragging him out on their toy brooms with his set of soft Quidditch balls for children, and for as long as he could remember, fumbling on passes had been his (and Montague's) biggest vexation. He just couldn't do it. Something about flying at a ridiculous height and speed prevented him from being able to pass or receive a ball. Get it into his hands, sure, it was practically a guaranteed goal, but that was the problem... you had to get it into his hands. Sensing what he was thinking, Montague glanced at him askance and said, "Adrian and I got offers too. You can practice with us... if you're interested."

"Who'd you get offers from?"

"Arrows," said Pucey. "For their reserves, though. No one's retiring quite yet, and they just closed their trades, so their first string roster's set for another year at least. Graham's obviously got half the league lined up at his door, though, and most of 'em haven't even sent scouts for him."

The conversation quickly turned into another argument over which teams were better, and Cassius tuned it out as he noticed with some discontent that Alicia hadn't made an appearance for lunch. His mood soured as he thought about her holed up in the Hospital Wing next to Bishop, which was where she undoubtedly was, showing her moral support as the 'girlfriend' or whatever she was.

After lunch, they went their separate ways, Montague and Pucey to work on an Herbology project in the greenhouses, and Cassius to the library. They would have to get as much work done as possible within the next six hours, because after dinner would come the inevitable post-win party, and the following day they would be at Hogsmeade until dinner time, and nobody was ever in the mood to do homework after a Hogsmeade trip.

Cassius was dismayed to see that the library was crammed full of people, everybody struggling to get their end of term assignments handed in, or studying for tests. The atmosphere was absolutely not condosive to studying. He required peace of mind, and just by stepping foot into the library, he'd practically absorbed a little bit of stress emanating from every person in the room. He could feel irritation humming in his bones.

He made a hasty retreat.

He was almost unsurprised to see through the little window in the door that Alicia was sprawled out on the floor of what had unofficially become their music room (though he refused to acknowledge it as such). He opened the door, and she looked at him over her shoulder, a frown marring her face.

"Ever hear of knocking?"

Cassius shut the door behind him.

"The library was full."

"So? There's at least a dozen other rooms in this corridor. Pick another one."

"What, you PMSing or something?" he said irritably.

She rolled onto her back and leaned on her forearms against the floor, scowling at him.

"As a matter of fact, yeah, yeah I am. My period's due in two days if you must know. Would you also like to know what size tampons I use? You bloody presumptuous arse. And may I add, I really do think it was a bit much of you to break his arms the way you did."

Cassius let his book bag drop to the floor with a loud BANG, and he glared down at her.

"So let me get this straight," he snapped. "You're telling me that not only am I not going to get laid this weekend, but you're also mad at me because I played against your stupid boyfriend's team and won? That hit was clean and you know it - hell, maybe I should just become a beater, since you seem to like them so damned much."

Alicia shot onto her feet, and she balled her hands up by her sides. She glared at Cassius, who seemed intent on staring her down with his fiercest expression.

"You're damn right you're not going to get laid this weekend. Not with me, anyhow. And clean or not," she replied heatedly, "That was completely uncalled for. You could have aimed for his bat, or better yet, you could have let your bloody beater do his job -

Cassius let out a sarcastic laugh, and gave her an unimpressed look.

"Do you even _play_ Quidditch? Have you _seen_ Goyle?"

"Fuck you, I play better Quidditch than you do -

"Then you'd know that I did what I had to do to win. Don't worry, _Spinnet_, it wasn't personal or anything. Your precious boyfriend isn't worth my breath, you really think I'd go out of my way to risk a suspension just to break his fucking arms? I could do that in the corridors with no witnesses if I really wanted to hurt him that bad. But I don't. You know why? Because I don't give a shit -

"Like hell you don't!" Alicia exclaimed shrilly. She stomped towards him and planted her hands on her hips. "I am so bloody sick of you reminding me every week how much you don't give a shit about me or about what I do, when all you do is criticize Carson or antagonize him or take the piss out of me whenever I mention him."

"That's because he's a bloody twat," Cassius sneered.

"Let me ask you something," Alicia snapped. "In six months when we graduate, no, shut up and don't interrupt me. In six months when we graduate, do you think you'll be able to look at me and say you don't give a shit? Or how about in a year? Maybe we pass each other in Diagon Alley or something, and say I'm with somebody - say, I'm with Montague - _  
_

Cassius stared at her lividly, horrified by the turn the argument had taken.

"Graham would _never_ -

Alicia cut him off with a shrill laugh.

"Yeah, just like _you_ would never, right? Just like Montague and I never kissed, hmm? Who knows, maybe in a year he decides it wasn't so bad - he's a pretty decent snog - and maybe he decides since I'm so _fucking poor_ that he'll put me up for a good lay. God knows, your fucking _friends_ have offered enough times over the years. And hey, who knows? Maybe I decide to take up your good friend on this hypothetical offer of his. And maybe you see us walking down the street one day, maybe he's got his hand on my arse like he did while we were kissing. You saw that, didn't you? I know I _felt _it."

"Alicia," said Cassius in a low, angry voice, "Shut the fuck up."

She smiled cruelly at him.

"And maybe we even say hi, maybe Montague mentions that he's going to fuck me, and invites you to come along since you _do _so love to share, don't you?"

She was doing it on purpose, and he wanted wipe that god awful smirk off her face because it didn't belong there. Not on her. Not like that.

"Stop talking."

She ignored him and was blatantly sneering now, refusing to shrink back despite the fact that he'd closed the gap between them and had her upper arm in a vice-grip. Her eyes never left his, and he felt his body clench in anger as she continued to antagonize him.

"... and just picture it, the three of us in some seedy hotel room. Would you fight him over who gets to go first? Or maybe you just don't give a shit, hmm? I mean, you're always saying it. So maybe you don't give a shit if you're dear old friend decides he wants a go at me first -

Cassius seized her by the chin, but if anything, she tilted it higher in defiance of him.

"Get one thing straight. Graham will _never, ever_ touch you again, do you understand?"

"Then why do you?" she whispered angrily, staring into his stormy eyes.

"I don't fucking know!" he barked, letting go over her and clenching his fists by his sides. "You think I know? Because god knows I don't have one fucking clue."

"So then _don't_ tell me you don't give a shit!" Alicia shrieked.

"Is that what you want?" he shouted furiously. "You want me to _give a shit_? Do you have any idea what me giving a shit entails? Let me give you a fucking picture, Alicia. It means you don't fucking go _near_ any other bloke when I'm around, it means you make damn sure that I don't even _hear_ about somebody else touching you. It means you get to stand on the sidelines pretending I'm not shagging the life out of you on the weekends, pretending you don't exist when I've got my arms wrapped around some other girl right in front of you. It means you get to play mistress while I get married to some bitch I've never met and have the required fucking heir and spare. It means maybe one day I really _stop_ giving a shit and toss you over for some younger, prettier girl. Is that what you want from me? Because by all means, I'll give it to you. I'll put you up in my goddamn family townhouse where you get to wait around like every other Warrington mistress who's been through those doors. It's even got a name, the bleeding _Berkley House_, there's been so fucking many of them. _That's_ what you get if you want me to give a shit. You should be _thanking_ me for not giving a sodding fuck. I've told you over and over again, no romance -

"Yeah, yeah, same old song, Cassius," she snapped, tears rolling down her cheeks. "No Romance. Well I don't want your fucking romance, alright? Never did. But here's the newsflash, this is it, you imbecile! Half the fucking things you've just mentioned are already happening. You think I don't see you with those other girls? You think it's _easy_ for me to pretend that I want to stomp on your face in the corridors? You think I _like_ watching you pretend to laugh while your fucking friends insult me and throw knuts at me when I walk by like they think I'm some desperate slag? When all I can think about when _my_ fucking _boyfriend_ kisses me is _your_ sodding face? How do you think I feel when you tell me you just don't give a shit, when the next time I see you, you're going off your rocker because you saw my _boyfriend_ slip his hand under my shirt? This is your own twisted brand of Warrington romance, you sadist masochistic fuck! Only it took me a hell of a long time to realize it for what it was. You can thank your friend for that, the goddamned bastard. I fucking hate you."

Cassius' face went white and Alicia wiped her eyes, furious with herself, furious at his honesty, and just all around disappointed. But what had she been expecting? A goddamn declaration of love? She had trouble admitting to herself that she was attracted to him on a more than superficial level, so why should he? But they both knew it, had known it for awhile even, that something that shouldn't have existed between them was well alive. She waited for him to say something else, but his face was drawn and shuttered, pinched and exhausted looking. She choked back another furious sob and turned away. She couldn't stay in this room a moment longer. Too much had been said that couldn't be taken back. The room itself was stifling, full of too many associations that she didn't want to think about. They were at another threshold now, and she wasn't sure if it was something she wanted to face.

"This has to end."

His voice reverberated in the silence, serious and resigned, punctuated only by the sound of their breaths, and Alicia knew that it was his way of recognizing the truth. Of course it had to end. They were going nowhere, it was a doomed thing from the start. School was a fake little haven that shielded them from the real world. In six months, there could be a war. In six months, she could wake up with his wand in her face while somebody encouraged him to kill her, or worse. And he'd have to do it, wouldn't he... So of course it had to end. Now. Before things got worse, if that was even possible.

The truth was, though, that things had already gotten worse. They'd stepped into the land of no return.

Alicia waited to hear the door slam shut, to be left alone in silence, but neither of those things happened. She could still hear his quiet breaths behind her, could still feel the terrible tension in the air, could still smell the intoxicating combination of his cologne and that scent that was just him. It made her want to cry.

"Just fucking say something," he snapped, and Alicia shook her head.

"Turn around."

Cassius and his commands. She wondered if he was even capable of requests. She heard him stride over towards her, and felt his hand clamp down on her shoulder like that very first day in front of the library when he'd asked her if she'd wanted to shag.

Three months felt like three years in her mind.

How had this happened?

Proximity, she thought. That's what it was. There was no escape. As long as they were at Hogwarts, there would be no escape. He would always be there in his back corner of every class they shared together, chair tilted against the wall, cool expression on his face. He would always be there in the Great Hall, three times a day, sitting with his shitfucker friends. He would be in the corridors, and on the pitch, and maybe even in the kitchens whenever she felt like a late night snack. Three months felt like three years because they saw each other every damned day, at least three times a day if not more.

She tried to tell herself that the next term would be better. The project would be over by then. Then they could go back to properly ignoring each other because there would be no need to talk to each other... no excuse to meet up under any circumstances whatsoever. And maybe by then she'd fall for Carson. Or for somebody else, anybody else. And he could go back to shagging his newest flavour of the week. They'd be Spinnet and Warrington again, and then they'd graduate and they'd never see each other again. And if one day it so happened that they found each other at opposite ends of each other's wands, she'd do what had to be done in order to stay alive. And he'd do the same. No hard feelings because it wouldn't matter. He'd be just another Death Eater, and she'd be just another half blood. The End.

But it wouldn't work out that way. As she turned around, forcefully guided by Cassius' hand on her shoulder, she felt her illusion shatter. They would never be the same again, even if it ended now.

"Fucking say something," he repeated, eyes hollow but voice cold and firm.

She looked up at him wearily, wondering what it was that he wanted to hear. It didn't matter, though. She didn't care. She was tired of fighting, tired of thinking. It always ended in the same thing. So she told him a resigned voice, "Just fuck me," and half hoped that he would shake his head and walk away. But he didn't. Of course he didn't. This is how they were. They fought, they fucked, and they played pretend.

He didn't kiss her for once, and Alicia was glad for this obvious attempt at distance. Maybe this could work out, some desperate part of her hoped. Maybe if they just didn't kiss, didn't talk...

It turned out that he didn't even want to bother undressing. Fine, she was fine with that. Less personal that way.

He pushed her up against the wall, and Alicia shivered at the coolness of the stone bricks against her cheek. She braced herself with her arms, flattening her palms down across the wall and arching her back in the way she knew he liked. She looked back at him over her shoulder, and he stared back at her with a blank expression, but she could see the darkening of his eyes, and his breath became stilted as he took her in with one sweeping gaze.

He didn't say anything, and she watched as he undid his belt. So. It was going to be like that then, a quick shag, he'd pull up his pants, she'd yank on her knickers, and then they'd go on their way. Yes, fine, she was fine with that.

But that wasn't what happened and she should have known better. She'd realized over the past three weeks that Cassius' need for control was not limited to his school work and daily life. She stared at him quizzically when he suddenly brought his belt up to her arms, and realization dawned on her as he wrapped it around her wrists. He muttered a quick charm, she felt the belt tighten and hold itself in place. She wanted to say something, but then she remembered that she'd decided she wasn't going to speak. Better that way. Yes, quite.

She looked back at him over her shoulder, and waited for him to drop his pants then fuck her. She was almost dreading it now, wondering if it was going to be like every other shag she'd had before him. Quick. Cold. Impersonal. Emotionless.

But that's what she wanted, wasn't it?

He dropped to his knees and pulled down her knickers, and Alicia flushed, remembering how she'd so guiltily charmed them green that morning. He looked up at her, a strange glint flickering momentarily in his eyes. She glanced away and faced the wall.

She felt him tug on her legs, so she shifted back until he stopped tugging, and mused at how vulgar she must look with her arms up against the wall, chest pressed forward with her back and arse arched out and legs spread. Suddenly, she felt Cassius' mouth brush against her from under her skirt, and she let out a yelp of surprise and pleasure. She slammed her mouth shut and pursed her lips, determined not to make a sound.

She looked back down at him over her shoulder, but his head had disappeared under her skirt. Still Ravenclaw blue.

She fought back a moan, struggling to remain silent as he teased her, breathing cool air over her first before the tip of his tongue ghosted over where she wanted it the most. He kissed her up and down her inner thighs, occasionally biting hard enough to leave a bruise. When he finally kissed his way back up to her centre, she was wet and shaking. He flicked her clit relentlessly and lazily, and it wasn't until she cried out his name that he rewarded her by slowly, torturously, sliding a finger into her. He pulled it out almost immediately, and she unconsciously let out a whimper of protest.

He was doing it on purpose, she thought viciously, but her thoughts became a muddled mess when his tongue suddenly dragged its way down to another target, and she let out a gasp of pleasure, astonishment and embarrassment as his tongue lightly circled over her. He couldn't possibly be _there_ of all places, and yet she vaguely remembered what he'd said the first time they'd shagged... she'd semi hoped it to be a joke then. "One day," he'd muttered, or something along those lines. _You'll like it, I promise_. Somehow, with his mouth hot against her, she didn't doubt it.

But he pulled away from her suddenly, bit her bum teasingly, then she felt him rise onto his feet behind her. She couldn't possibly look at him now, not after where he'd just been, and she listened silently as he unzipped his pants and cast a contraceptive charm, keeping her eyes firmly glued to the wall. One of his arms came down to a rest against the wall next to her head, and she felt his chest mould against her back as he tugged her a little more upright with his other arm. He pulled her skirt out of the way, and she felt him brush against her.

"_Fuck_," he hissed, and it was the first thing he'd said. She choked back another moan as he rubbed himself against her entrance, and she groaned as he finally sunk himself in.

He held her down firmly against the wall with his body, one of his free hands pressed down against her shackled shackled ones as the other one clutched her hips. He would leave marks. He always did.

His thrusts were slow, heavy and even, and Alicia let out a string of swear words in her head as she struggled to remain silent. She tried to buck against him, tried to silently urge him to move faster, but he held her down with even more pressure, nipping on the crook of her neck as a quiet reminder of who was the boss.

He was playing her. He knew exactly how she liked it (hard, rough, fast), and he was purposely doing the opposite. His hand moved from her hip to her chest, and he continued to thrust in that maddeningly slow pattern as he unbuttoned her shirt.

"You want to know what would happen if it was you, me and Montague?" he suddenly hissed, his voice terribly rough and angry in her ear. She let out an involuntary whimper of disappointment as he pulled out of her, leaving her clenching at a terrible emptiness. She wanted to block her ears, but her hands were still bound, pressed against the wall underneath his unoccupied hand. She let out a moan as he toyed lazily with her breasts with the other, cupping her under her bra. "There wouldn't _be_ an argument over who'd get to fuck you first." Suddenly, she felt his wet erection slide against her bottom while he gave one of her nipples a punishing twist. "We'd do it at the same time," he snarled. "And I _always_ start from _right here_ when we share." He pressed himself a little more firmly against her, and for one mad second, she wanted to thrust back against him.

He slid down lower and his hand left her chest to slide into her hair as he pressed himself back into her empty clenching core, still at that torturously slow pace. She cried out his name as his angry thrusts picked up speed and strength to the point where it almost hurt. But it felt good, too good to stop, too good to pretend that she didn't like it, and he was so fucking thick, filled her so fucking properly that it wasn't fair because how in merlin's name was she ever going to find anybody else, the bloody bastard, she hated him, hated him, hated him -

He pulled out of her again and brought her down to the floor, and she wanted to cry as he looked down at her emotionlessly while he pounded into her, eyes focused on everything but her face. She struggled against his belt, wanted to reach down and touch him, to make him _look_ at her, but resigned herself to submission when it was clear that he wasn't going to do anything about it. Instead, she watched him as he screwed her, and she tried to forget every detail of his face. There. One last look at his lips, which she wouldn't kiss again. Dry, as always. There. One last look at his nose, a little on the big side, but a perfect ski slope nevertheless. There. One last look at his eyes, so dark and angry and - No. Stop. She couldn't look there.

He dragged her legs over his shoulders, and she found herself unable to focus anymore, heard herself chanting his name as his thrusts became short, rough, and impossibly fast. Suddenly, he dropped her legs, and she wrapped them around his waist as she urged him on, ordering him to go deeper, just a little harder -

"Fuck, Alicia," he snarled, his voice wavering between anger, pleasure and desperation. "Fuck!"

She heard herself howl his name one last time as his thrusts became erratic, before she saw a cascade of stars against blackness. He collapsed onto his back beside her and lazily undid the belt around her wrists with one outstretched arm, and pulled up his boxers and his pants with the other.

"So," she mumbled once reality had settled in. "What now?"

Cassius let out snort.

"Nothing. We're here now. Might as well finish the project," he said curtly, his voice flat and dismissive.

"That's not what I meant."

He propped himself up onto his elbow and looked down at her, and immediately wished he hadn't. He'd wanted to stay angry with her, but he couldn't, not when she looked so at peace, so thoroughly _fucked_. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were closed, and her cheeks were flushed and sweaty, streaked with red from his stubble. He could see her chest rise and fall with every deep breath. Bishop's blue and bronze tie hung haphazardly on her breasts, and he wanted to rip it off, the filthy reminder that she belonged to a different world, to somebody else, a sharp contrast against the lacy emerald green bra with a tiny silver bell and ribbon on its centre that matched her knickers. Green and silver, just for him... God, why did she have to bare her soul so openly? Her arms, still stretched out above her head, were marked with red welts from his belt. He felt his chest constrict uncomfortably when she opened her eyes.

"We finish the project," he finally repeated, flopping down onto his back to avoid her gaze. He propped his head behind his hands. "And that's it. We're presenting this week anyhow. Not like we'll have an excuse to meet up anymore," he said in a disaffected voice.

He fished around inside his pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes.

"You can't smoke in here!" she exclaimed as he lit a cigarette.

"I just fucked you against a wall, Alicia. I think I can have a sodding fag."

They settled into an eerily comfortable silence as Cassius smoked, and Alicia occasionally stole a drag, and he hated it. Nothing was supposed to be comfortable between them. Certainly not after what had been said, certainly not after the way he'd shagged her. And yet they were quite comfortable, and it only served as a terrible reminder of how far they had fallen down the rabbit hole. His anger had dissipated, replaced by a combination of resigned pleasure and weariness that he didn't want.

"If I'd been a pureblood -

"Don't," he interrupted. "You weren't. You're not. And you'd still have been a Gryffindor, anyhow." He didn't want to think about the what-ifs and the what could-have-beens. It wasn't worth it. It made his heart clench to know that she thought about it too. It made him want to throw up. And when she pronounced the word he'd never wanted to hear associated with his name, not from her - not from anyone, but especially not from her - in a small scared voice,_ Cassius, do you love me_, he wished for the ground to collapse beneath him and swallow him whole. _  
_

"It doesn't matter," was all he could say, feigning nonchalance as he lit himself a second cigarette.

"I don't love you either," she lied, plucking what was left of the first one from his fingers.

And they both knew then that it was the closest thing to the truth either of them would get.

* * *

**REVIEWS?! Pretty please? PS, did you guys like the old pic better? **


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey guys, I'm so sorry for the delay. This chapter was just NOT cooperating with me, so if it isn't all that great, I apologize. But it's coming along, I promise, I really want to pull through on this story because I love the Alicia-Cassius dynamic. **

**Anyway, much thanks to supergirl818, Etoile Black, Stromsten, Guest and Sibel88. **

**Guest: I didn't really write much about the presentation, but you're right, the topic will come up eventually but I'm not quite sure yet how, I just know that it will :) As for the Yule thing, it's the Flints who are hosting the Debutante Ball (I'm sorry if I wasn't so clear on that), though there will of course be other families hosting more private balls which will be much more selective, especially in terms of blood. So Cassius knows that Alicia will be at the Flints to come out, though they may have a few more run-ins as the private balls as well, given who her grandparents are. **

**So enjoy this next chapter, don't hate me too much for being late, and as always, leave a review! Does it suck? Does it rock? Is something unclear? You guys keep me going, I always look forward to hearing your input because it's your story too!**

* * *

She wasn't there.

He'd waited for an hour, and she hadn't shown up, and he'd never felt quite so angry in his entire life.

Stood up. He'd been stood up by Alicia Spinnet, and here he was now, stewing in his anger as he fought to control his temper. Seven o'clock had come and past, and at first, he'd figured she was simply running late. Girls did that, got caught up with gossip, their hair, a frayed hem - something stupid, anything. But seven-fifteen had become seven-thirty, and seven-thirty had become a quarter-to-eight, and eventually he'd come to the conclusion that yes, he had indeed been stood up by Alicia bloody Spinnet.

He tried to reason with himself that he hadn't been stood up, not really - it wasn't as though they'd made plans, like they were supposed to be on some sort of date. In fact, they hadn't really talked much after last night's shag - too much had already been said and done, too many things that couldn't be taken back, not without a good _obliviate_.

Was that why she wasn't there?

But he'd seen her at breakfast... and at lunch... and at dinner. She hadn't looked at him, but she hadn't avoided him either... they'd ran into each other in the corridor, and she'd given him a curt nod before hurrying on her way.

Dismissed. Maybe that had been her way of dismissing him. Like he didn't matter to her anymore.

He was thinking like a pansy, like some soft broken-hearted imbecile.

Well he wasn't broken-hearted, dammit, he wasn't anything at all.

Angry, maybe. That was all. Of course he was angry - anybody would be angry in his place... they had a project to present tomorrow morning, for fuck's sake! Alright, maybe they didn't make plans to meet, but they met every goddamn Sunday like clockwork. She was _supposed_ to be here, and if she wasn't going to show up, then she should have at least sent him a fucking courtesy owl.

He slammed his hands down over the piano, and rejoiced in the disharmonious sound like a petulant toddler.

_Bitch._

She was a bitch, that was all. Couldn't handle rejection. _I don't love you either my arse_. _Lying bitch._

Cassius swore and stood onto his feet. For a second, he was tempted to kick the piano bench over, but he decided he'd already displayed enough emotional instability for the day. He was better than this. Alicia Spinnet could go fuck herself.

He kicked over the piano bench anyway as he left the room.

* * *

The last two weeks of school withered away like a dying ember, sadly uneventful and monotonous until the last day before the holidays.

Carson had not recovered in time for Hogsmeade, and so Alicia had spent the day with Katie and Angelina doing their Christmas shopping and, on a last minute whim, getting waxed (_Yule Wax Special - Guaranteed to last until the New Year or your money back!_). After dinner, when she got back to Gryffindor Tower, she nearly passed out in shock when she found Carson sitting on one of the Gryffindor armchairs by the fire, chatting with Lee Jordan and the twins about the finer merits of cannabis as an anti-nausea ingredient in potions without a hint of irony on his part. She'd been forced to play the role of Girlfriend after this, and had found herself somehow coaxed into joining him in the Astronomy Tower to look at stars, whilst simultaneously trying to keep his wandering hands at bay.

Cassius had avoided her like the plague since. The following day when she'd joined him at the front of the class to give their presentation in Ancient Runes, he'd given her a cold once-over before turning to face the class. Their presentations had gone by smoothly, just as they'd practiced over the previous week, but the professors had definitely noticed their lack of intercommunication, and they'd been penalized for it.

Indeed, it was as though they'd erased each other from existence. Cassius no longer looked at her - he looked _through_ her - and she wanted to throttle him for it, the bloody bastard, ever the hypocrite. He didn't even want to hear an explanation from her, not that she owed him one. But still... she'd tried to approach him once after the presentations after running into him in a secluded corridor, and he'd walked right past her, the great git. For somebody who didn't give a shit about her interactions with her own boyfriend, he certainly reacted like a child who didn't have his way.

And so Alicia tried her damned hardest to pretend that they had indeed erased each other from existence. She threw herself into her remaining school work with a vigour that had her friends shocked and sniggering. She read books, and wrote essays, and practiced her newly learned D.A skills until her body wanted to cave in on itself. She worked herself until she was numb. And yet every night before she crawled into bed, as she quickly undressed and passed by the floor-to-ceiling mirrors in the bathroom, she was forced to confront herself before she could soak in the comfort of a scalding shower. Scattered over her otherwise perfect skin were his marks from that Saturday after the Quidditch match... Marks of possession, marks of love, marks of hatred - whatever they were, they were his, and only time would make them disappear. And two weeks later when the bruises on her thigh and on her wrists had faded into her skin, she continued to bear the burden of his presence in the back of her mind and deep inside her heart.

But now, as Alicia snuck out of the Room of Requirements with Angelina and Katie by her side after the last D.A. meeting of the year, she suddenly recalled that first day she and Cassius had met up to work the on the assignment, in the empty classroom down the hall. She remembered the panic of potentially getting caught, the relief of escaping Filch and Snape, and then the confusion of being trapped in some seemingly never-ending tunnel that had appeared out of nowhere. And then he'd invited her to his dorm to crash, and then they'd gotten _that_ close to shagging right there in a room full of sleeping snakes (which was probably, in retrospect, what he had been hoping for at the time), if she hadn't regained her senses in time.

God, she'd been so attracted to him from the start. How had she gone so long denying it? Why had he kept persisting?

She wondered if he was shagging anybody else. She'd never bothered to ask, though she imagined he hadn't been celibate during those three months they hadn't taken it any further than a snog. But what about now?

She thought about Carson, and his tentative gropes under her shirt, and then she thought about Cassius. A little seed of jealousy bloomed in her chest when she pictured him with another girl the way he was with her. She frowned. Was that how he felt all the time, then, seeing her with Carson in the corridors or in class? She tried to recollect the number of times she'd seen him with girls, but had trouble coming up with a solid figure. She vaguely remembered passing him in the corridors those first few months entwined with a girl in some alcove, but nothing recent.

What the hell did that mean?

She crawled into bed with a troubled conscience, while Angelina mumbled tiredly about having to prep the newly reformed team (Ginny was decided as Harry's replacement in a sad tryout on Tuesday evening, along with two new beaters).

What the hell did that mean?

It meant that she was a bad, bad person.

Alicia Spinnet was a liar.

Alicia Spinnet was a cheat.

Worst of all, Alicia Spinnet was in love.

* * *

When Cassius awoke on Friday morning, it was to Montague violently shaking his shoulder.

"Get up!"

"What?" Cassius grunted groggily.

Montague shook him again.

"Get up! There's been an attack."

Cassius bolted up. _There's been an attack_... he hadn't heard those words in Hogwarts since his fourth year, when the Chamber of Secrets business had caused so much chaos.

"It's Weasley."

Cassius looked at him, unimpressed.

"Which one?"

"Their father. At the Ministry. Just got word of it through Malfoy. Thought you might want to know."

Cassius stiffened. So. Things were heating up. A Ministry breach was serious, and the Weasley's were close to Potter, probably the closest thing he had to family. The Dark Lord was back. A meeting with his father was definitely in his near future. As in, probably by dinnertime today.

"Is he alive?"

"Dunno," Montague replied. "The idiot was talking about it at breakfast. Well, I mean, it was sort of obvious besides that... all the bloody Weasleys and Potter were missing, and Dumbledore wasn't there for his usual little speech, so everybody's figured something's off."

"Shit, I missed breakfast? Well why didn't you bloody wake me?"

"Because you're a fucking prat in the mornings," Montague replied hotly. "You should be thanking me for even waking your arse right now. Carriages are leaving in an hour."

Cassius swore, and scrambled out of bed.

"How's Adrian handling it?" he asked as he threw on his robes.

"How do you think? I'd pay him out of it if I could, but then he'd just look bloody weak... do more harm than good, know what I mean?"

"You get any mail?"

Montague shook his head.

"No," he said darkly. "None of us did. Nothing in the papers either."

Silence on the front. That was a bad sign. Things were serious if their parents were waiting for them to get home to talk. It was worse if the Ministry was hushing this up. Something on this scale would have normally merited a series of frantic letters, and a headliner on the Daily Prophet.

Cassius' thoughts inevitably trailed to Alicia, as they always did whenever such issues came up. Her half-blood status suddenly loomed large in his mind as he and Montague rushed down to the Great Hall with their luggage. His mind tried to desperately reason that half-blood wasn't that bad, but he knew he was just playing himself for a fool. If things escalated to the old war's standards, her half-blood status was Bad.

He hadn't been pleased with the turns his mind had taken recently to excuse her blood status. He'd always been a firm believer in separate but co-existing worlds when it came to the muggle world and the magical world. The existence of muggle-borns was a threat to wizarding society, because it meant exposure. One could never know if some muggle-born's family was going to go berserk and let the rabbit out of the hat. If muggleborns were to be let into wizarding society, it ought to be under the condition that they were brought in as infants and raised by proper witches and wizards, or something along those lines. He knew they couldn't been eliminated, try as the Dark Lord might, because they would simply continue to be born (not that he dared ever point this out to anybody). He also knew that it would be stupid to eliminate them. There was a reason why so many true pureblood families had died out over the years. The assignment he'd worked on with Alicia had been testament to that... fresh blood was imperative to survival. Inbreeding was simply not possible on a long term scale. It wasn't for shits and giggles that an entire ward of St. Mungo's was dedicated to paediatric illnesses, many of them genetic... and Cassius knew all about _that_. The smell of slow death still haunted his dreams sometimes.

His own parents, while they were supporters of pureblood superiority, and they would never allow him to marry a witch of non pureblood descent, they had never actively participated in the bloodshed of the last war... His mother had been young, married straight out of Hogwarts and pregnant with him almost immediately, and his father had chosen to participate through hefty financial contributions rather than by an active, physical presence. His uncles, on the other hand, had all died, every last one of them by the time Saint Potter had offed the Dark Lord the first time around, half of them before Cassius had seen the light of day. Not one of them had hit the ripe old age of thirty. His youngest uncle, Evan, had been barely twenty-one at his death on New Year's Day, nineteen seventy-nine, the last of his uncles to fall. Mad-Eye Moody, or rather Barty Crouch Jr. posing as Mad-Eye, had reminded them all of what had happened to the last Rosier, tapping the missing chunk of his nose ominously on their first day of Defence Against the Dark Arts last year. Cassius had been a year old that day the last carrier of his maternal line was wiped out. His mother, nineteen at the time, was the last of the Rosiers, but she was a Warrington by then. Rosiers, the fallen angels, or so the old myths went. Another pureblood family, come and gone... Time and loss had made them bitter, his mother especially.

Once all the carriages were loaded with luggage and students and began to roll along, Cassius watched Hogwarts disappear into the distance, in all of its winter glory for one last time. He would never see the castle like this again. The end of ninety-five was drawing closer with each passing day, and who knew what the new year would bring? He had the distinct impression that he was watching his childhood fade away as the falling snow soon obstructed his view. How was it that first year seemed like yesterday, when here he was now, rolling away from Hogwarts for his last christmas holiday. By this time next year, he would be a proper adult. He realized with a shock that he'd already come of age... his seventeenth birthday had already passed more than a year ago... and when he graduated, part of the Rosier estate would transfer to him as the next eligible heir after his mother, who'd inherited it all after her parents had passed on, for there had been no more sons to inherit. And when his parents passed away, Cassius would inherit both the Warrington and Rosier estates in full.

What in merlin's name did one do with so much wealth?

He could buy Pucey's freedom. Then he wouldn't have to marry one of the Flint sisters, or be pressured into taking the Mark. But realistically, he knew his friend could never take a buy-out. He'd be shunned, humiliated. A buy-out from family members was acceptable to some degree. A buy-out from a friend was just charity, and a sign of weakness, as Montague had earlier pointed out.

He could provide for Alicia. He could hide her away somewhere safe, somewhere far from England, somewhere sunny and warm and safe where -

Where what? Where she would wait for him to visit her once every blue moon for a quick shag, before he'd have to come back? The war could last a decade like the last one. He'd have to get married, his wife would have to pop out a few kids...

Wife. The word made him shudder. It dawned on him that Yule was literally a week and a half away. What was the girl's name he would be taking... a Spanish girl... Garcia? Garnere? Guerrera? Guerrera. He couldn't remember her first name. He'd chosen her after glancing through the photographs his mother had sent him of acceptable candidates. A small girl, from what he remembered, with sun-kissed skin and long dark hair -

_Merlin's fucking balls._

She looked like Alicia.

He'd chosen a bird who looked like Alicia.

They hadn't even been shagging at the time.

Alicia.

Alicia.

Alicia.

It always came back to Alicia.

"_Fuck!_"

* * *

The ride home was sombre. With only Katie, Angelina and Lee for company, the twins' presence was sorely missed. Rumours had bounced around from person to person when Dumbledore hadn't been at breakfast that morning, and the obvious absence of a clan of redheads and a certain boy-who-lived made itself known... but Umbridge had insisted that everything was perfectly fine, the fat fucking cow, and she had more or less threatened eternal detention on anybody who dared question her authority on Ministry knowledge (_"and if the Ministry reports have not indicated anything amiss, then you all ought to be satisfied that the world is in perfect order"_).

Lee, who'd been half asleep when Professor McGonagall had fetched Fred and George from their dorm, had only overheard snippets of whatever had happened. Something about Mr. Weasley, and St. Mungos. Why Harry had been involved was anybody's guess, though the most obvious one pointed to some sort of dark scenario involving you-know-who. It hadn't been lost on anybody that the Slytherin table had been strangely lacking in owls that morning, whereas everybody else had received the usual flurry of last-minute travel advice from home.

They played another sad round of exploding snap, before Alicia couldn't take it anymore. The silence was deafening.

"I'm going to stretch my legs for a bit," she muttered, excusing herself from the game. Her three friends shrugged, each looking gloomier than the next. She stumbled out of the compartment, head empty of thoughts, and sauntered down the narrow corridors.

"Hey Alicia!"

She turned around, and smiled wearily.

"Hey Carson."

"I was just coming to see you. The boys are getting a bit annoying... Peter thought it'd be a great idea to unleash all of his chocolate frogs in our compartment."

Alicia snorted.

"Of course he did. And how did he get sorted into Ravenclaw again?"

Carson laughed as he slid his arms around her waist. He leaned back against the windows and pulled her up against him. She rested her head on his shoulder and watched the countryside fly by. They stood together in a strangely comfortable silence, and for a strange moment, she relished the warmth of his arms and the comforting way he rubbed her arms with those slow strokes of his callused hands. Any of the usual guilt and awkwardness Alicia reserved had been pushed to the back of her mind by her need for some sort of comfort.

She breathed in deeply, turning around to bury her face into is chest, and he held her closer still, one of his hands gently stroking her hair. His sweater smelled freshly laundered, and she could smell the spiciness of his aftershave when he bent down to kiss the crook of her neck. It occurred to her then that maybe she'd been missing out, that maybe she'd been blind to the prize all this time, that she'd been torturing herself for no reason when she had the loveliest man in the world, right in the palm of her hand.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, suddenly breaking the moment of silence.

"Nothing," she replied truthfully, face still buried into his soft jumper. "I'm tired of thinking. What are you thinking about?"

"You. I like how you smell... and you're so soft... I just want to tickle you -

"Carson!" she shrieked as his fingers suddenly prodded her sides, gently tormenting her as she squealed in his arms. One of his arms pinned her to him while he tickled her with his free hand, his fingers sliding dangerously higher under her shirt. She laughed and felt lighthearted in a way that had become unfamiliar over the past few months, and suddenly she wondered why she'd been so reluctant to get close to Carson. He was a great guy. The best guy. Every girl's dream.

But the dream shattered, when she heard the compartment door next to them slam open, and the smooth, angry voice of the devil pierced her ears.

"Oi, some of us are trying to bloody read -

Carson's hands fell away from her sides, and Alicia felt the blood drain from her face as Cassius' eyes slid over them, cold and devoid of expression as he took in who had disrupted his reading.

"You can read, can you, Warrington?" Carson shot out.

"What did you say to me, you filthy blood-traitor shit?" Cassius hissed.

And before Alicia knew what was happening, before she could even register the offending words,_ blood traitor shit_, she found herself pushed back as the two boys jostled each other against the walls. Compartment doors slammed open as students peered out to eagerly take in the commotion.

Pucey and Montague had popped out almost as soon as the incident had started, and they stood, propped up against the door of their compartment, arms crossed as they watched in amusement while the two boys fought, but menacing nonetheless in case anything should go awry. It wasn't every day that Hogwarts students were treated to actual fights, for duelling was the most common means of sorting out a problem, and so nobody made a move to stop the fight. If anything, the crowd got bigger, and the noise swelled as the tight corridor became jam-packed with students leaving their compartments to get a better look at two of Hogwarts' fittest boys took to pummelling each other.

Alicia just wanted to melt into the crowd, and to pretend that she didn't exist, but her eyes were riveted as the two boys swung punches at each other. Cassius was taller than Carson, but Carson was thicker, with the upper body of a beater. She was relieved of having the decide who she wanted to support, despite Cassius' cruel words, by Professor Flitwick, who had discreetly made his way to the front of the crowd because of his small stature. The tiny wizard immediately cast full body binds on the two boys, so that they lay flat on their backs, limbs glued to their sides, while blood tricked out from both their noses. Alicia could see the cold fury in Cassius' eyes. She looked away, angry and hurt. _Blood traitor shit. You fucking hypocrite._

"What is the meaning of this?" the usually kindly professor demanded. The crowd looked to Alicia, who unhappily gazed down at her favourite professor.

"Miss Spinnet? Does this somehow involve you?" he asked in surprise, noticing that everybody was now looking at her. "All of you, back to your compartments, this isn't a show. Go on now."

"No!" Alicia exclaimed. "I mean, yes. But no, not really. Carson and I - we were just, er..." Her face flushed in embarrassment. "He was ticking me, and I'm rather ticklish and well, I suppose I sort of made quite a bit of noise, and C - Warrington poked his head out and told us to be quiet because he was trying to read and -

"And _Bishop_ very rudely insulted Cassius' intelligence by insinuating that he couldn't read," said Montague, cutting her off. Flitwick turned to look at him. "I saw the whole thing. Adrian too. And they _were _being loud... rather inappropriate for seventh years, might I add. You can even ask Spinnet, sir, she was there."

Alicia shot daggers at Montague, who smirked in her direction.

"Is this true, Miss Spinnet?"

Alicia hung her head.

"Yes, sir," she mumbled. "But don't blame Carson, it was my fault, really, I shouldn't have been shrieking -

" - and how was it that they got into this altercation?"

She bit her lip in humiliation.

"He -

She paused and glanced back down at Cassius' immobile form. His eyes were hard and emotionless, and Alicia had never seem them quite so... dead. It was worse than the anger she'd glimpsed in them a moment before. It was as though he was looking right through her.

"He called Carson a - a _filthy blood traitor shit_."

Professor Flitwick looked at her, dismayed, and the crowd (which had obviously not dispersed) let out a collective gasp. Alicia looked away. Flitwick cast quick healing charms on both boys, though blood still marred their faces, then unfroze them after lecturing them about noise, fighting and racism before docking fifty points from both Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Alicia, Montague and Pucey watched silently as the two boys crawled onto their feet, glaring stonily at each other while Flitwick continued to berate them. When Flitwick dismissed her, she walked silently back to her compartment, ignoring the uncomfortable burn of two pairs of eyes following her retreating form.

* * *

"Well played, mate," Montague commented loftily when Pucey had disappeared to use the loo. "I noticed the excellent spell work there, the mark of a great wizard. Really. "

"Fuck off," Cassius snarled.

"You didn't listen to a word I said," his friend replied. "What did I tell you, mate? Merlin's balls, Cash, if that wasn't the most pathetic thing I've ever seen, I don't know what is... fighting like a stupid muggle - you still fucking love her, don't you? For god's sake. You're fucked, mate, you're absolutely fucked. I sodding well _told _you, didn't I, that this could only end badly - "

Cassius slammed his book shut, and scowled at Montague.

"You think I don't know that?" he hissed. "You think I actually _want_ this to be happening to me?" _  
_

Montague scoffed.

"Yeah, actually. I think you do. I think you _like_ being all fucked up. Why else would you keep going back to her? And don't tell me you haven't, I'm not blind. Every Sunday like clockwork, mate. So fucking predictable. Except last week... and you've been a sodding git ever since. Did she dump your arse for Bishop?"

"Fuck. Off."

"You're losing it, mate, she's playing you. You think she loves you back? You lot discuss how you're going to play house, and have two-point-three children and a dog -

Cassius clenched his fists, and willed himself not to snap. He was doing it on purpose. Fucking Montague and his fucking games. How many times had he repeated those words over the years? They'd never rang so true as they did now. The worst part was, he knew his friend was doing it for his own benefit. Of course he was fucked. He wasn't stupid. But no amount of antagonizing him was going to get him to snap out of it. He knew that now. She'd been so _fucking happy_ with Bishop, until she'd seen his face. The twat had his hands all over her, _tickling her_ of all things, _touching_ her - he could have sworn the bastard had been all over her breasts, or was about to - and Cassius had watched her smile disappear as their eyes had met when he'd stuck his head out of the compartment to tell whoever was in the corridor to shut the fuck up. He hadn't been expecting Them. And when he'd realized who it was, he'd felt that horrifyingly familiar, unexplainable, undesirable swell of jealousy that always drowned out his reason whenever he caught sight of Bishop touching her. Or anybody else for that matter. And then the shithead had to go and push him over the edge by being a smartarse, ever the goddamn mouthy Ravenclaw.

_Fucking twat._

_Mother fucking twat, who the hell does he think he is, the filthy blood traitor piece of shit._

And Cassius knew then that the little voice in his head was no longer referring Carson sodding Bishop. He'd lost his head, and now he was paying for it.

* * *

When the train pulled into Platform nine and three-quarters, Alicia said goodbye to her friends and searched for her mum amongst the crowd. She would spend the next week in London at home, and then it would be off to the DeWitt villa to prep for Yule. The debutante ball was on the twenty-fourth, next Sunday, and she felt sick to the stomach just thinking about it. She could only count her blessings that she hadn't come out yet, otherwise she would have been subject to an entire extra week of balls and dinner parties. She wanted to puke.

Her mother greeted her with a brittle smile, and Alicia quickly pecked her on both cheeks.

"What's wrong, mum? Aren't you happy to see your only daughter?" she asked teasingly, though anxiety gnawed at her insides as she caught sight of her mother's drawn face. The weakly reassuring smile was the furthest thing from soothing Alicia had ever seen. Where was her mum's usual cheery, careless grin? Aurora's usual life-of-the-party aura had disappeared, replaced by something... sinister.

Aurora sighed unhappily.

"Oh, Alicia... I only wish you'd have said no, is all. Your grandparents _aren't_ the rulers of the world, as much as they'd like to think otherwise, and what with all these... _disappearances_, I really don't think now's the best time for you to be... announcing your presence, shall we say."

Alicia scowled.

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly say yes either."

"Then just say no! It isn't too late to back out - I only want what's best for you, you know that... and they say there's going to be another war soon, and the people your grandparents associate with... and those _people_ absolutely _do not_ have your best interests in mind. I didn't leave all of that to see my only daughter forced into some sham marriage, or worse, and the things people are saying..."

"Mum! It's not like I'm going to get bloody engaged or anything!"

Aurora shook her head.

"This is what I mean, darling. You haven't any idea what you're in for. _Of course_ that's what these things are all about. Nobody spends a fortune on prancing their daughters about in front of wealthy men for no reason. And I imagine -

"Because they failed with you, they're going to try it with me," Alicia spat as they stepped outside into the streets.

Aurora fumbled around in her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one before responding.

"Look, Alicia, I know they're your grandparents, but they're _my_ parents. I mean, you've said so yourself - you _hate_ going there every summer! Well _I've_ had to live with them. For seventeen years! You've only seen the tip of the iceberg."

Alicia rolled her eyes.

"I only said yes because I felt bad," she replied, scowling. "You know how She gets."

Aurora shook her head as she exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Tip of the iceberg, sweetheart. Your grandmother played you like a fiddle."

"She was crying!"

"Of course she was. Oh, look, there's your father with the car -

"Dad's here? Who's watching the pub?"

Aurora suddenly grinned.

"Ah, that would be Florrie."

"Florrie's here? And Skylar?"

"For the week. They're going to back when you leave for the Villa."

Alicia jumped in excitement as her father hopped out of the car and greeted her with a bear hug.

"And how's my little girl doing? Here, let me grab that," he said, reaching for her suitcase. She laughed. Her father, who was a tall, tattooed and pierced barrel-chested man with thick dark hair and golden skin inherited from his South American mother, looked absolutely ridiculous with her small purple suitcase in his large hands.

"Florrie and Skylar are watching the pub?"

Her father snorted.

"Florrie's watching the pub. I imagine Skylar's off creating chaos somewhere in the neighbourhood."

Florence Kim was the closest thing to a female relative that Alicia had on her mother's side, besides her distantly affectionate grandmother. She and Aurora had both gone to Hogwarts together, but it wasn't at school that they'd become friends. Indeed, they'd been rather far off of each other's radars during their school days. But in a matter of sheer coincidence, they'd found themselves living in the same neighbourhood in muggle London, and as the only two witches in the vicinity, hiding from the ravages of a war that was tearing the wizarding world apart, they'd become close friends... Especially since Florrie had been pregnant and alone when she'd moved into the neighbourhood, and Alicia hadn't even reached her first birthday yet. The women, or rather, the girls, had bonded over their young motherhood, and Alicia and Skylar had grown up together, along with Alicia's cousins from her father's side, while Florrie studied to become a healer whilst helping around at the pub to make a little bit of extra money. Skylar had even gone to Hogwarts with Alicia, albeit she was two years behind her in school, being a September baby. But Florrie had been promoted and transferred to L'Hôpital Honoré de Montmorency last year, and Skylar had been dragged along with her to France, and sent off to Beauxbatons for her fourth year. They hadn't seen each other since.

"Where are they staying?" Alicia asked as she slid into the back seat of the car.

"Florrie was going to take a hotel, but I told her that was nonsense."

Alicia smirked.

"Ooh, a hotel... I guess she's doing well in France, then?"

Aurora rolled her eyes.

"Don't be crass, Alicia. And yes, she is doing well. They've decided to extend her contract, so Skylar will definitely be graduating from Beauxbatons."

"And she's right pleased about that, from what I hear," he father snorted.

"Alan! She's your god-daughter!"

"So? I'm not blind. That girl's had her eye on the boys since she hit puberty -

"Dad!" Alicia exclaimed, mortified.

Her father chortled.

"Don't get me wrong, I love the girl as my own, but sometimes I get the feeling that not having a father does strange things to kids who grow up like that with only their mums, and Florrie's a great lass, but discipline was never her forte and Skylar knows how to run a good game."

"Yes, well," said Aurora conspiratorially, "Florrie was never the angel in school either, despite being a Ravenclaw and all."

Alicia raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you two didn't know each other in school."

Aurora rolled her eyes.

"Well of course we knew each other - you're still in school, you know how it is. I mean, how well do you _know_ any Ravenclaws?"

Alicia shrugged.

"So I knew who she was, we just didn't _know _each other," Aurora continued. "We had a few classes together, but that was about it. She was... well, you know, she hung out with a bad crowd."

Alicia laughed.

"A bad crowd? Really, mum? Who says that? And anyway, as if you're one to talk - you ran away from home!"

"Yes, but I was always actually rather good in school, you know, and my... my girl friends were rather straight, I suppose is the word..." Aurora's voice trailed off for a moment as her face took on a perturbed look. It wasn't often that she discussed her youth, and Alicia knew well enough why... Her mother had never let go of the guilt of abandoning her friends, the wizarding world, when times were dark. Aurora DeWitt had hightailed it out of the wizarding world without daring to glance over her shoulder the fateful day she'd ventured into muggle london, and had run into Alan Spinnett on her search for a lighter. The next morning when she'd awoken in his unfamiliar bedroom, nursing a terrible hangover, she knew something had changed. Love at first sight, lust at first sight - call it what you will. Something had changed, though, and she'd seized the opportunity to hide herself away from a war that had worn away at her soul, bit by bit.

Her friends and family had undoubtedly thought she was dead, like so many others they knew who were missing without a trace. It wasn't until four years later, on Halloween of nineteen eighty-one, clutching two year old Alicia in her arms, that she let herself cry as she peered down into the streets and saw the unbelievable... Witches and wizards, in muggle London... celebrating. Celebrating the death of the Dark Lord, celebrating the death of her friends. In the four years Aurora had been absent, her former best friend had wed the infamous James Potter and had given birth to the Boy Who Lived. In the span of one night, Alicia lost four friends forever... The Potters, dead. Sirius Black, in Azkaban, worse than dead. Peter Pettigrew, dead. And here she was, alive. Then later, through her parents, when they finally discovered her whereabouts, she found out even worse. They were all gone. Out of her original group of friends, she was the only one left. The Longbottoms were as good as dead, Bellatrix Black - or Lestrange, rather - had made sure of that. Frank had been a few years older, but Alice had been a good friend, a kind friend... and Dorcas Meadowes too was dead, killed personally by the Dark Lord in 'seventy-nine, only nineteen years old. They'd found her severed head gruesomely placed on top of a decapitated snake. Marlene McKinnon, also dead, found horrifically tortured along with the rest of her family, both nuclear and extended... somebody had wanted the McKinnon name wiped off the face of the earth and they'd succeeded. That had happened the week before the Potters. Rumours swirled later that it had been another one of Sirius Black's betrayals... he and Marlene had been close, it was said that she had left him upon discovering his dark side... And then there was Remus Lupin, he too, the last of his original group of friends, just like her. Aurora had been in shock when Alicia had written to her in her fifth year to tell her who her new DADA professor was. She'd thought he'd never step foot back into England after leaving for the continent, this god-awful country where they'd seen all their friend die...

Alicia exchanged anxious glances with her father through the rear-view mirror, and he gave her an uncharacteristically sad smile.

"Mum -

"It was only when I was at _home_," said Aurora suddenly, cutting her off with a falsely bright smile. "I was quite good otherwise. Not a prefect, mind you - that was always... Lily's sort of thing - but you know. I was quite good, except when I came home. You know how your grandparents are! Impossible, absolutely impossible to get along with. Now Florrie on the other hand... well, I dunno. She hasn't really told me much about her family, but I gather they weren't all that accepting of her... magical status. Anyway, so she hung out with the bad sort - you know, _potheads_ -

Her father snorted.

"And look at you know," he said teasingly, relieved by the lighter topic. "In love with a pothead -

"Alan! And anyway, you know it's different for girls. Actually, Skylar's rather like Florrie in that respect... I don't think I really remember her having any girl friends back in school. She always seemed to gravitate with... well... yes. Boys." _  
_

"_Pothead_ boys?" Alicia supplied cheekily. "And how was she a Ravenclaw again?"

Her mother looked at her seriously, glancing over her shoulder.

"You don't smoke pot, do you, darling?" she asked.

"Mum," Alicia deadpanned, "_You_ smoke all the time."

"That's different," she replied offhandedly, "I'm a grown up now. I didn't _touch_ drugs until I met your father -

"_Drugs,_ mum? As in _plural_? As in different types of drugs?"

Aurora flushed, the same chest-to-ear blush that Alicia had unfortunately inherited. Her father laughed.

"Ah, she's got you there, babe. Smart one, our Alicia, isn't she?"

"Don't encourage her, Alan! And it's _different_ for adults. We're all grown. Our brains are fully developed -

"Did Florrie tell you that?" Alan asked.

"You two, I'm trying to be serious here!"

Alicia and Alan laughed, while Aurora crossed rolled her eyes petulantly.

"Oh alright, I give up."

"So," said Alicia after a moment of silence, "What drugs _have_ you done, mum?"

"Alicia!"

* * *

Cassius tapped his foot impatiently as he watched the crowd on the platform thin out. Somehow it didn't surprise him that he and his housemates seemed to make up the last of the students awaiting their various relatives or caregivers, or in some cases, house elves.

Cassius stood off to the side by himself, as Montague and Pucey had gone their separate ways almost as soon as they'd stepped off the train. He didn't want to bother socializing with any his younger housemates, or the small handful of students from other houses.

Normally his father sent one of his aides to pick him up, but perhaps the overwhelming presence of Slytherins on the platform was significative of something larger at hand. Or maybe he was simply reading too deeply into things. Somehow he doubted it, though. Not if Weasley Sr. had been attacked in the Ministry of all places.

Finally, Twittle, who worked mostly at the London townhouse made an appearance by his side, and Cassius looked down at the little house elf, startled.

"Master says young master is to come with Twittle to London house. Mistress is not yet back at Big House."

So. His mother was still abroad. Big surprise there... She liked to brood in the Rosier estates, visiting each property one by one, following the sun and wallowing in her memories of better times amongst the portraits of her long-dead brothers and cousins. But the London house? Cassius shivered inwardly. The London house was his father's domain, because it was close to the firm, and because his mother hated the city. Cassius usually stayed at the Manor. In fact, he couldn't remember one time he'd actually _stayed_ at the London House as opposed to _visiting_ it for a day. But he was to go there now? Without even dropping his things off at the Manor?

When Twittle latched herself onto Cassius' arm and apparated them to his father's study, he knew then what was coming, and he felt a sense of foreboding rush through his veins.

"Cassius," said his father coolly, giving him an appraising glance.

So soon. He hadn't been expecting it so soon. Barely an hour ago, he'd been sprawled out in the Hogwarts Express, watching the scenery fly by. A day ago, he'd been at Hogwarts, in the safety of his four-poster bed, before he'd ever heard of the attack on Weasley Sr. at the ministry. And here he was now. In the London house. In his father's study. With his father.

"Sit."

Cassius sat and watched as his father poured a couple of glasses of Ogden's Old. He accepted one gratefully.

"I imagine you are wondering why I've summoned you here," said his father loftily, observing him as though he were some sort of strange specimen.

"Yes sir," Cassius replied dully.

"You are seventeen now -

"Eighteen," Cassius interrupted, though he knew he shouldn't have. His father's eyes narrowed.

"Don't take that tone with me, boy. Seventeen or eighteen, I couldn't care less. The point is you are of age now, and as the sole inheritor the the Warrington name and estates, you are also expected to take an active interest in the firm. I am not even going to ask you if you've considered schools for next year, because I imagine you are sufficiently intelligent enough to have already done so. You will, of course, send me a list of acceptances and we will pick the appropriate one when the time comes."

_Wanker_.

Cassius cursed inwardly at his stupidity, as his father's eyes flashed dangerously, and he fought to keep his mind blank as he felt his father pick apart his mind. He chanted _fuck_ like a prayer as he kept his mind focused on the empty glass before him.

"Your cheek, Cassius," his father hissed, "Is unbecoming. I don't need to remind you again that you are an adult now. One more display like that and you will regret it. You are much too old for me to take over my knee for a hiding, but I assure you, there are other ways."

"Yes father," said Cassius blankly.

"And if you think for one second that you'll pass the Occlumency portion of the Bar exam with that poor tactic of yours, you can think again."

"Yes father."

_Wanker_.

His father didn't say anything this time, and Cassius smiled inwardly to himself. _Passed_. _  
_

"Now then. Onto other matters. You will come to work with me every day, and I expect you to learn as much as you can in the next three weeks. Now, I'm not going to gloss this over for you. There are certain things happening right now, that I know you are not oblivious to. I imagine you have by now heard about the Ministry incident last night. This year's gatherings will not be like the others, and you need to be prepared for that, especially as you are now of age."

Cassius stiffened inwardly, and his father stared at him with a distant, probing gaze.

"I cannot tell you what events will transpire in the next year, or even in the next month, but this is not Hogwarts, this is not one of your Quidditch games. You need to be very aware of whom you interact with, and how you interact with them, especially at the Debutante ball. People will be watching, as it is the only ball where we will be mingling with... _all sorts_, and they _will_ judge you - judge _us_. Your mother and I haven't any pressing need for you to get married at this point - indeed, it is rather preferable at the moment if you held off any such thing until I tell you the time is righ - but that also means if or when the time comes, you will be asked to take the Mark, especially considering who your uncles were. You will politely decline. You will offer your services in monetary contributions, and you will contribute in whatever indirect manner possible, but that is all."

"So He's back," Cassius murmured, and his father gave him a blank look.

"He was never gone," his father replied, and Casisus felt a shiver crawl down his spine. His father's gaze suddenly hardened. "I had the choice to take the Mark but I did not. I saw your mother's family decimated, for nothing. For mudbloods. For muggles... entire families wiped out in the course of a decade, for nothing. The important thing is not whether or not there are mudbloods populating wizarding society. The important thing is not whether or not they need to be exterminated. It cannot be done. The important thing is whether or not, at the end of the day, there is a Warrington sitting behind this desk. Dying for an ideology is not how one keeps one's name alive. There will always be purebloods, just as there will always be mudbloods. The important thing is that you remain alive and that the Warrington name is kept on, and kept pure... what good is dying for a cause, if it just ensures the extermination of a line? This family has seen too much death. Too many purebloods have died already for what surmounts to a hopeless cause, too many names gone for good. You will not be another. I will not see the Warrington line die with you."

Cassius held back his anger, and nodded stiffly. _I will not see the Warrington line die with you_. His father didn't give a shit whether or not he died. His father gave a shit whether or not the name died. Cassius was almost tempted to be stupid and churlish, tempted to announce that he would take the Mark and that he would die for it, just to spite his father, but he didn't dare. His father looked at him through narrowed eyes for a moment, as though he'd read his mind, but the older man poured himself another glass of whiskey and leaned back in his chair. _Safe._

"Now. As for your living arrangements for the next few weeks -

Cassius looked up sharply, and his father raised his eyebrow a fraction of an inch as though to say, _paying attention now are we_?

"I won't be going to the Manor?"

"Too far. I want you at work with me every morning by six-thirty -

"Can't I floo? or apparate?"

His father glared at him.

"Do not interrupt me when I am speaking, you are hardly a child anymore. And don't be ridiculous. Apparition indeed... what do they teach you at that school these days? You'll have walked for a day before you reach any part of that property unguarded by anti-apparation wards. And as for the Floo... filthy mudblood invention. I hardly think it appropriate for you to come shooting out of a fireplace in the middle of a law firm, covered in soot. Do you?"

"No sir," Cassius muttered sullenly.

His father sneered at him.

"No, I didn't think so."

"... and where will I be staying then?"

His father took another sip of whiskey.

"The Berkley House."

...

It was the same as he remembered it, the same crooked Victorian that seemed perched on an impossible angle, and yet still somehow towering and overbearing. He followed his father up the stairs and to the front door, feeling terribly small, as small as the first - and last - time he'd been here. He froze as his gaze fell across the terribly sad, worn out looking statue of an angel that stood on guard before the door.

_"Donne moi ta main!" (Give me your hand!)_

_Cassius tried to keep a brave face as he held out his hand to his mother, who'd pulled a small dagger out of her purse._

_"Pas un bruit," __(Not a sound) _she hissed gravely, clenching his arm painfully tightly.

_He held his breath as she took the dagger and drew it across his palm. He sucked in sharply as the pain hit, and whimpered when he felt the cool wind brush against his hand. Blood dripped from his hand, down his wrist and onto his shirtsleeve. The red on white was a startling contrast._

_"Pas un bruit, j'ai dit. Viens ici." (Not a sound, I said. Come here). She dragged him by the bleeding hand to the statue of an angel that stood before the dark green door. He stared up at it, horrified by its blank expression and its starkness. It was taller than he was, and its dead eyes bore into his own like a haughty creature. "Attention à ma robe," __(Be careful of my dress) _his mother snapped, as she lifted him off the ground, holding him at a distance in front of her so that his blood would not stain her dress. His mother had told him several times what he would have to do, yet staring into the dead whites of the horrible marble angel's eyes, he couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding at the thought of touching it's frozen white hand, outstretched in a terrifyingly welcome gesture.

_"Mais qu'est-ce qui te prend?" (What's wrong with you?) his mother exclaimed, gripping him tighter to urge him on._

_Cassius took a deep shuddering breath and reached out to touch the angel's hand. He clasped his fingers between it's cool marble ones, just as his mother had instructed him. He nearly screamed when it grasped back, but he held his tongue when his mother's grip around his waist became nearly death-inducing, and he stared in fear as blood suddenly trickled out of the angel's marble eyes. He let out a gasp of relief when the marble hand released him, and his mother dropped him unceremoniously onto his feet. The angel suddenly launched up into the air, and perched itself at the top of the house, not unlike some awful gargoyle. Cassius could still see the red stains on its cheeks. Blood. His blood._

_His mother blasted the door apart with the flick of her wand, and dragged him in._

Cassius stood and stared down at statue that had haunted his dreams as a child, and glanced at his father, half expecting him to draw out a dagger. But instead, he simply clasped the angel's hand, and the statue flew up and perched itself on top of the house, just as Cassius had remembered.

He stared blankly up at the statue.

"There's no blood."

His father glanced back at him, expression unreadable.

"Only needs to be done the first time. The house knows you now."

"Why couldn't -

"_She_ isn't blood. The house doesn't recognize non-relatives or non-occupiers. They have to be invited in, or else get a Warrington to bypass the angel."

Cassius nodded. Of course... made sense. Couldn't have wives running about hunting down their husbands' mistresses, after all... Or ex-wives, in the case of the Notts...

His father stepped aside, and Cassius looked up at him. The older man gave him a barely perceptible nod.

"It's yours now."

_I don't want it_.

He pulled his wand out reluctantly.

"_Alohomora._"

The door swung open.

_It was a richly decorated house, full of warm tapestries and rugs, and landscape portraits that lined the walls. The house smelled lovely, like tea and spiced cakes, and Cassius couldn't help but feel sorry as his blood dripped from his hand onto the obviously expensive rug beneath his feet. Had this been the Manor, his mother would have thrown a fit._

_They passed portraits of beautiful women, each as varied as a pack of Bertie Botts', on their way up the steep set of stairs, and his mother spat in disgust as she dragged him past them, snarling insults at them until the air was filled with the voices of half a dozen irate, shrieking women. At the top of the stairs, Cassius' mother approached the last portrait, and held her still bloody dagger up to its occupant. The dark-skinned beauty stared at her in shock._

_"Where are they, and don't you dare lie to me you filthy slut or I'll cut you out and burn your frame, do you understand?"_

_"Last room on the left!" the portrait squeaked._

_Cassius tried not to cry out when his mother grabbed him by his injured hand and dragged him down the corridor, screaming bloody murder._

_"Edmund, you sonofabitch!"_

_Cassius stared in shock at the sight of his father on all fours, dressed in nothing but his underpants, and scrambling to throw on the rest of his clothes. Behind him, half hidden under the luscious burgundy bed covers, a pretty woman with cascading auburn curls stared back at them in horror._

_"What the fuck are you doing here, Céleste -_

_"Shut up, Edmund, just shut the fuck up. Sale espèce de con, comment oses-tu? Six heures, tu m'entends? Six putain d'heures, on te cherche, salaud, ca fait six putain d'heures que ta fille est morte dans un lit d'hôpital, sans son père parce qu'il était trop occupé avec sa pute! How could you, how fucking dare you - and with this, this fucking half-blood Hufflepuff cock-sucking, gold-digging bitch - I'll kill you Edmund, I'll fucking kill you and your whore -_

_(Filthy douchebag, how dare you? Six hours, __do you hear me? Six fucking hours, we've been looking for you, you bastard, six hours your daughter's been dead in some hospital bed, without her father because he was too busy with his whore!)_

It had been a richly decorated house, but was now full of moulding tapestries and moth-eaten rugs, and barely-visible landscape portraits that lined the walls underneath a thick layer of dust . Cassius looked back at the footprints he'd left in the dust. He stared at an odd dark-looking splotch on the rug, made visible by one of his father's wider footsteps, and he brought his hand to his face for a close inspection.

And there it was.

A thin scar looked back at him, barely visible, camouflaged amongst the lines on his palm so that it was hard to tell where any one stopped and another began... the same thin scar had puzzled Professor Trewlaney on the first and last day Cassius had taken Divination back in third year, before dropping it for Arithmancy. The crazy old bad had hemmed and hawed over it, before announcing that he was to be the slave of destiny, that he would have to surrender his own interests for the sake of others. He and his housemates had laughed, while the others in the class had scoffed. A self-sacrificing Slytherin indeed...

* * *

**Verdict? **

**PS **

**Check out my other story, Fighter, if you guys want a bit of a spoiler... HINT: has to do with Florrie, Skylar and Cassius (to some extent). **


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay guys, here it is, the next instalment. It took me the entire month to write this in between school, work and writer's block... I'm kind of annoyed right now with Alicia and Cassius because I have all these awesome scenes floating around in my head but I can't figure out a way to link them all together and work my way up to them all! So it's a slow process. I think this story's going to be a lot longer than I originally anticipated... **

**Now, to address a question asked by Sibel88 regarding chapter 5:**

**Theodore Nott is of mixedbood. Theo's mother, a halfblood, was his father's mistress when he was conceived, but when it became apparent that she was pregnant with him, his father divorced his first wife who'd been barren, as being childless is basically more unacceptable than having a mixedblood child. So it was his father's first wife who killed Theo's mother in front of him in an act of revenge. I'm sorry for all the confusion and I hope this clears it up. If not, feel free to ask more questions about anything!**

**PS: Yes, we will definitely see Cassius visiting the Rosier estates to visit some paintings soon... a certain Florence will have something to do with this as the story progresses... see **FIGHTER **if you haven't already for a little prequel-esque spoiler guys!**

**Thanks again to Sibel88, Etoile Black, NC, supergirl818 and Guest for all the reviews. Much appreciated as always, nothing gets me more motivated than hearing from you guys! **

**Sidenote on this chapter: it pretty much came out of nowhere so if some ideas don't seem that developed, let me know and I will work on it. **

* * *

"Alicia! Alicia, wake up! Now! This just came for you - oh for goodness' sake, Alicia!"

"Urgh, mum!"

Alicia forced her eyes open and blinked groggily as her mother waved her lit wand in her face, half blinding her with the intensity of her _lumos_. Next to her, Skylar moaned into her pillow and tossed violently as Aurora waved her wand about, casting light into the sleeping girl's face.

"Alicia! Now, or you're going to be late!"

"Late for what?" Alicia muttered sleepily. Her mother peered down at her and Alicia recoiled as the light from the tip of her wand came dangerously close to her face. "Mum!"

"Good, got your attention now, have I? I'm not any happier about this than you are, but you signed on for it so there you have it -

"Signed on for what? What are you talking about?"

"Up, up, hurry, you're going to be late enough as it is!"

"Late for what!" Alicia whispered loudly as she forced her body to withdraw itself from the warmth of her covers.

Her mother tutted at her in disapproval.

"Dress-rehersal for your bloody ball, that's what!"

Alicia blinked in confusion as she reached out for her wand.

"_Lumos. _Dress rehearsal? What dress - oh. Oh. Shit."

"Language, Alicia!"

"But dad -

"Never mind your father, _he's_ not the bloody debutante now is he?"

"Well _you_ just said _bloody_ -

Aurora glared at her, and Alicia withered under her mother's stare. She glanced haphazardly out the window and was pained by the sight of utter darkness. What time was it?

"It's five o'clock," said Aurora, as though she'd read her mind. "And _this_," she said, violently waving a letter in her face, "Just came from your grandmother. It seems she had the good sense to realize that you would probably forget about this sort of thing. Poor owl was utterly exhausted when it arrived so I had to send Cowlick in its place - must have flown at twice it's usual speed... Anyhow, there's a dress rehearsal tomorrow - or today rather - and _you_ have completely forgotten about it."

Shit. She had, hadn't she? Of course she had... her grandmother had been sending her owls on a weekly basis since the summer - how in god's name was she supposed to keep filter and keep track of what was nonsense and what was... well, less nonsensical? The dress-rehersal had been the last thing on Alicia's mind, especially over the last month, and she hadn't even bothered to read her grandmother's last few letters... well. No wonder she'd forgotten all about it. She vaguely remembered something in the last letter she'd read from the old bat asking for her measurements...

Shit. And it was tomorrow? Or rather, _today_? Why hadn't Angelina said anything about it on the train?

Or maybe she had. She could hardly remember anything other than Cassius-I'm-a-wanker-Warrington attempting to pummel Carson's face in.

"... and I'm telling you, your father was absolutely livid when - Alicia! Are you listening to me?"

"Huh?"

"Oh for merlin's sake... we'll have to take the Floo -

"But She hates the Floo!" _  
_

Aurora scowled at her.

"Yes, I think I know that about my own mother, darling, but we don't have time to drive and it's much too far to apparate - you might end up in the middle of the ocean! I always hated apparating there anyhow... I can't think of any place more difficult to apparate to then a damned island."

"_Language, Aurora_!" said Alicia mockingly as she followed her mother out of her room.

"Don't give me cheek, young lady - I raised you and I sure as hell can spank you!"

"Ah, ah, ah, _language Aurora_! _My goodness, you've certainly taken on the qualities of that ruffian of yours_!"

Aurora looked back at her disapprovingly, but couldn't hide the little smirk tugging at her lips.

"Alright, you cheeky girl, go on down and have some breakfast... merlin knows She'll have you starve all day to shed a pound or three."

Alicia made a face and glanced at her mother.

"Dunno how you did it, mum -

"Oh, they only got as far as getting me to come out," her mother replied mildly as she set out the kettle to boil some water for tea. "I missed the entire Season... or the sham that I heard it turned out to be, anyhow - what with the war and all..."

Alicia cringed at the mention of war, and her mother looked away.

"I suspect this'll be one of the last proper Seasons in awhile," Aurora continued as she turned away to pour the water into a couple of mugs. "Feels like the last time around..." She set down the mugs on the table and sat down across from Alicia. "And you listen to me - if it's anything like the last time around... well you know wizarding Society. These events will be crawling with - with bad people. _Blood purists_. And I don't mean bad like No-Thumb Nigel or those boys of his. Your grandparents can only shield you so much but even they -

"They're ashamed of me," Alicia finished.

"They're not ashamed of you," said Aurora quickly. "They're ashamed of me. They - they're not _purists, _you know that... otherwise they would have cut ties with you, they wouldn't have asked you to come out -

"No, they just want to use me to redeem the family name. Yeah, I get it mum. I know."

Aurora sighed, and Alicia looked down.

"So if you know all of that, then why did you agree to it?"

Alicia shrugged.

"Like I said. She was crying. Said I was their last hope or something stupid like that."

Aurora rolled her eyes.

"Alright, alright, well what's done is done. Though I still say you can back out of it. But if you insist on going, then hurry up and eat your breakfast. If this is anything like my coming out, then gran and granny will already be up."

Alicia made a face and bit into her toast, purposely spraying crumbs everywhere just because she could; the rest of the day's meals would undoubtedly consist of daintily eating little meals _without_ dropping a crumb.

"And Alicia..."

"Yeah?"

Aurora looked at her with a worried expression on her face.

"_Be careful. _And I'm serious... these purists - they - they might never take a muggleborn or even a half blood as a wife, but most of them won't blink twice at the thought of - of - _seducing_ one and tossing her away. Or worse."

Alicia stared at her mother incredulously.

"_Seducing_ - mum, we aren't living in a bodice ripper! And what could possibly be worse?"

Aurora shook her head and grimly stared at her.

"You don't understand because you weren't raised in Society, but it _is_ like - like a bodice ripper in some ways. As for what could possibly be worse... _that _is something I sincerely hope you will _never _understand, but if a war is on its way... a lot of girls were lucky only to be tossed out to go off on their merry way."

"What do you mean?"

Aurora looked at her with a pained expression on her face.

"I don't suppose they've talked to you about the Kept Girls at school?"

Alicia shook her head and made a face.

"They aren't talking about much at school these days, not with Umbridge around."

"Well, these girls, they - they were called Kept Girls. Girls like you - half bloods, mixed bloods - all Society Girls who, when the lines were drawn, obviously found themselves on the side of - of you-know-who's opponents. When there were... I suppose you could call them Death Eater raids, a lot of these girls weren't... weren't killed right away... They were kept - that's why they were called Kept Girls. And for a variety of reasons... some personal, but almost always political, if not both... you know, _you can't have mudbloods in Society!_

Most of them were killed eventually, and a lot of them killed themselves after the war, after they were freed or had gotten away. And they were kept as... well, as slaves as you can imagine, just like in any war, magical or muggle... I'm not surprised you haven't heard about this, it obviously it isn't something people want to remember, but it's something you need to know if you're going into this. You're already going to stir some trouble because of who your grandparents are and because of me... people are going to be watching you, and not always for the best reasons. I'm not saying somebody's going to come out and kidnap you or anything like that, but... well, things being the way they are right now, I would feel better if you kept as low a profile as possible. _  
_

And another thing. If any of the purist lot try to get in with you, keep your guard up. I don't want to put it this way, but it's how Society people see things... you _are_ your grandfather's heir. I mean, after I die, but you are still an heir and that's how people will see you. And they _will _try to use you to get close with your grandfather and sometimes, if it's advantageous to them, they'll try to hurt you in order to hurt him. I know it sounds crazy - why would a purist want to get close to a half blood if not to kill her - but your grandparents still hold a lot of clout in Society and they're pure, even if you aren't, and we aren't at war yet. And like I said... a purist might never take a muggleborn or a half-blood as a wife, but they aren't beyond sleeping with one and throwing her aside, or even keeping one around as a mistress if it has its advantages. That happened a lot too during the war... a lot of... of peacetime Favourites were protected as mistresses... for as long as possible, anyway."

"Peacetime Favourites?"

Aurora's face took an expression of disgust.

"Favourites. You know, like favourite girls, mistresses, whatever you want to call them. Well if some purist prick's favourite mistress happened to be a halfblood or a muggleborn, or even a muggle during peacetime - and mistresses weren't always Society Girls, even now I imagine - then obviously some problems arose during the war if he was off... off killing her siblings while shagging her on the side."

Alicia looked at her mother in horror, anxiety churning in her stomach as Cassius' face flashed in her mind. He could possibly be there today. Along with the rest of the Debutantes and their escorts. And Carson. At Flint Manor. Crawling with Death Eaters.

"Alicia? Are you alright? Look, darling, I don't mean to alarm you - but that's just... how things are - were. Who knows?" Aurora gave her a weak laugh. "Things might have changed now, right?"

_Not according to Cassius_, Alicia thought grimly, recalling their last conversation - or argument, rather.

And suddenly, she was angry.

Suddenly, she could hear Cassius' voice, still fresh from two days ago, ringing in her head.

_Blood-traitor shit_.

That sonofabitch.

He was just like the rest of them, the sodding hypocritical purists who were two damned proud to admit that non-purebloods were human, too damned proud to admit that pure blood fanaticism was impossible madness, and too damned proud to admit that yes, occasionally they _wanted_ to touch a non-pureblood, and _yes_, occasionally they bleeding well _did_ feel a little more than lust towards said non-pureblood, and _yes_, she specifically had Cassius in mind as her brain processed everything that she had experienced over the past three months and everything she had just heard in the past three minutes. _That s__hit-eating sonofabitch_. _  
_

* * *

"Inappropriately late as always, Aurora! And by Floo of all things - will wonders never cease!"

"Hello granny," said Aurora sullenly as she dusted Alicia off. "Mother."

"Aurora! Stop that at once! Look at all that dust! Minky! Where on earth is that awful house elf? And Alicia, what -_ what_ is _that_ you are wearing? Minky! There you are, when I call for you, I expect you to be here at once! Now quickly, clean this mess up at once and - no, don't move another step or you'll ruin the rest of the carpet. And to think, this fireplace hasn't been used in a decade - look at this filth!"

"A decade, mum? Really? Why bother paying to keep it connected at all then?"

"Don't discuss finances with me, girl - how absolutely vulgar of you. I can see that your manners have hardly improved since the summer, though your weight certainly has. I can't quite say the same for you, Alicia, darling."

Aurora's eyes flashed angrily while Alicia flushed in embarrassment.

"Yes, well I saw you for all of five minutes then and I think I'm just about hitting that mark right now, so if you'll excuse me Minky - long time no see by the way - I'll be _flooing_ home. Mother. Grandmother. Pleasure as always. And Alicia, eat whatever you want - you look beautiful, my love."

"Hmph, at this rate she'll pop out of her dress!"

"Well, we're witches, aren't we?" said Aurora loftily, before grabbing a handful of Floo Powder from the dusty jar on the mantlepiece and disappearing into the green flames.

Alicia stared in dismay at the empty fireplace.

She was alone now. With the two witches. In the sarcastic muggle-sense of the word. She shuddered inwardly as she turned around to face her stern grandmother and even sterner great-grandmother.

"They must take after your side," said her great-grandmother Adelaide after a brief moment of silence, haughtily glaring at her daughter-in-law and shaking her head in Alicia's direction.

Sophie DeWitt's eyes narrowed in irritation, but she dismissed the comment and instead called for another house-elf, quickly instructing it to get a bath ready for Alicia. It was time for the day to begin. And for those awful things her granddaughter thought of as clothes to be burned and never seen again.

* * *

"This," Alicia gasped in pain, "Is ridiculous!"

"Don't be silly. Tighter, Minky - just a touch more, not too much, mind you - the wasp look is quite out of date now."

"Don't we have magic to get this sort of look?" Alicia squeaked as Minky snapped her fingers, causing the corset to tighten around her another fraction of an inch. "Argh! Without the rib crushing involved?"

"Quiet, you'll wake your grandfather. And magic doesn't fix everything - you're a half blood, you should know that better than anyone! And magic certainly does not fix a figure, otherwise all witches would be tall, slim and beautiful, you silly girl!"

Alicia ignored the half blood comment, sadly used to her grandmother's subtle subconscious racism, and instead, fixed her rage on the offending item that was slowly squeezing the life out of her.

"Why do I have to wear this?" Alicia moaned. "The dress isn't even tailored for a corset!"

"Practice, Alicia - your posture is atrocious. You won't be wearing it out - just until we leave. And at least this way, you cannot bend in that unseemly manner - ladies do not _bend over_ in public."

"But what if I drop something?"

"Drop something indeed! What are house-elves for, child!" her great-grandmother exclaimed in shock, her thinly plucked eyebrows nearly disappearing into her wrinkled hairline.

Alicia shook her head in disgust.

"Well... when are we leaving, then?"

"There will be a light ladies lunch hosted by the Flints, as they are organizing the ball this year."

Adelaide made a sound of disapproval.

"In my day, those girls would have been considered well onto the shelf."

"Yes, well, be that as it may, the luncheon will be held at Flint Manor. Poor Sylvia, she must be rolling in her grave."

"Slyvia?"

"Sylvia, the late _first_ Lady Flint. Goodness Alicia, do you not keep up with politics?"

_This is hardly politics._

"And to think you went to school with the Flint boy for all those years! _He_'s from the second marriage. Who _do_ you fraternize with?"

Alicia rolled her eyes and turned around with great difficulty to glare at her grandmother. Sophie stared back at her, looking positively innocent, her hazel eyes open wide with faux earnestness.

"I'm a _Gryffindor_, gran -

"Yes, yes," said Sophie dismissively, "But that's a poor excuse for not keeping up with what is what and whom is whom. No matter. That's what you're being introduced to society for, after all. Now then, Minky - I think the rose skirt and blazer should do nicely."

"Don't be ridiculous" said Adelaide, "That combination would look atrocious on the girl - look at those hips! Skirt and blazer indeed. Well... no one ever accused a Ravenclaw of being fashion conscious! Move aside, Sophie, let the professionals handle this. Gracious, child, whatever they're serving at that school of yours must be going straight to your bottom... I said it when your mother was in school, and I'll say it again... Beauxbatons was and continues to be the better school - have you ever seen a fat French girl?"

"I'm not _fat _granny," Alicia ground out through gritted teeth, cheeks blazing in embarrassment.

Adelaide and Sophie exchanged pitying glances.

"Of course you're not darling," said Sophie condescendingly. "What granny is trying to say is that you could very well be headed in that direction if you continue on as you do. We've been telling you every year since you were twelve -

"It's called _puberty_," Alicia snarled in irritation.

Adelaide's eyebrows rose sharply in shock, and would have completely disappeared into her hairline, if such a thing were possible, as the word _puberty_ echoed throughout the room.

"Well!" said Sophie uncomfortably. "Whatever it is... Minky! Forget the blazer. We'll go for - the cream chiffon dress with the empire waist."

"A much more sensible choice," Adelaide sniffed with the barest hint of approval. "Now... Minky, put that aside for later. Sophie, be a dear and bring us that awful lavender gown - there, now, my dear, you may soil this one all you please."

Alicia mentally shot herself as Minky slipped the dress over her head.

"Well look that, Alicia, darling, you have a chest! Perhaps you should keep the corset on after all."

She mentally pointed her imaginary gun at her grandmother's head.

* * *

"Alicia! Is that you under there?"

"Hello grampy," said Alicia glumly as her grandfather strolled into the sitting room, newspaper in one hand, coffee in the other. Stiffly, upper body still aching from the corset she'd only been allowed to remove an hour earlier, she stood onto her feet and kissed her grandfather on both cheeks. He inspected her from head to toe and nodded in approval.

"Well, well, we do clean up quite nicely, I must say. Mother, Sophie - I take it this is your doing?"

"Of course it is, boy," said Adelaide sharply, glaring hawkishly at her son, "You should have seen the atrocity she was wearing when she arrived this morning!"

"And by Floo, of all things!" Sophie added.

"By Floo?" said Tristan in surprise. "I'm surprised you didn't get stuck - I don't think anyone's used it in -

"Ten years!" Sophie exclaimed. "And you should have just seen the mess - this entire room was covered in soot!"

"Hm, yes, well -

"Hang on," said Alicia suddenly, "If we aren't going by Floo and we aren't apparating, how are we getting there?"

"By carriage of course!"

"By carriage?" she echoed dumbly.

"Naturally. It's the only respectable manner of transportation for these sort of things... imagine how filthy it would be if a hundred people were to fly out of your fireplace! Not to mention, the risks of tearing your clothes on the way, or if you were to splinch during apparition - absolutely unacceptable. It's also a matter of tradition of course, and - goodness, look at the time! Minky! Prepare the carriage."

"You have a carriage?"

"Of course we do, my dear," said Tristan loftily as he looked up from his newspaper. "Have you never seen it?"

Alicia stared blankly back at her grandfather, who looked at her with a quizzical expression.

"Well haven't you ever wondered why we've two aethonans?"

Alicia frowned, but nodded slowly. It was true... they _did_ have two aeothonans that nobody seemed to ride, with beautiful, gleaming chestnut coats and terribly wild tempers, named Magnus and Atlas. She'd been frightened by them as a child, and hadn't paid much attention to them since.

"Right. So they pull the carriage. And that's it?"

Her grandfather shrugged.

"They aren't much good for riding anymore - much too old these days. Magnus was an excellent show horse when your mother was about your age - she used to ride him in competitions, didn't you know?"

Before Alicia could respond, her grandmother cut her off as Minky reappeared in the room, signalling that the carriage was now ready.

Tristan stood and kissed Sophie and Alicia on the cheek. Alicia awkwardly offered her cheek to her great-grandmother, who pressed her papery skin against her face before sniffing in approval.

"Come along Alicia, no dawdling now," said Sophie as Alicia took one last glance back at her grandfather, who gave her an encouraging smile.

She sighed unhappily as she followed her grandmother out the door.

* * *

The carriage was waiting for them outside, the two horses snorting impatiently as they waited for the carriage occupants to arrive. Alicia cringed from the doorway as she caught sight of them, suddenly thrust back into the past when she'd nearly been trampled by Magnus - or was it Atlas? - after she'd snuck into the stables. Despite no longer seeming larger than life to her seventeen-year-old self, she couldn't help but feel a smidgen of fear as she stared into Atlas' eerily large eye.

"Alicia! What are you doing?"

Sophie was already installed in the carriage, and was waiting just as impatiently as the horses for Alicia to arrive.

"Er -

"What is it? Oh for goodness' sake, don't tell me you're still afraid of them!"

It was to Sophie that Tristan had brought a sobbing, frightened Alicia upon having discovered her cowering in the corner of one of the stalls. He'd practically thrust her into the arms of her horrified grandmother, who'd been more dismayed by the fact that her granddaughter would never become a great equestrian than by the fact that she'd nearly been trampled to death. Sophie gave her a withering glance.

"And how do you go to school, pray tell?"

"They're horseless!" Alicia exclaimed.

Sophie frowned at her.

"Horseless? Ah. Of course. You wouldn't know."

"Wouldn't know what?"

Sophie shook her head.

"Come down here at once. And they're not horseless. They're pulled by Thestrals. You wouldn't know that as it takes one who has witnessed death to see them."

Alicia resignedly made her way down the stairs and onto the gravel pathway. She approached the carriage doors from the back of the carriage, avoiding looking at the horses as her grandmother scoffed disdainfully.

"I ought to remind you," said Sophie once Alicia managed to crawl into the carriage, "That there will be a hundred more carriages once we arrive at the Manor."

Alicia gulped anxiously.

"I hadn't thought about that."

Sophie patted her knee with just as much sympathy as she had when Tristan had handed her off to her after the stables incident - that is, with none at all.

"As long as you don't make a fool out of yourself, my girl."

Alicia barely held back a shriek as the carriage suddenly shot into the air. Her grandmother tutted disapprovingly.

"Don't you play Quidditch? What good are your flying skills if you can't ride a carriage?"

Alicia let out a long mental scream of frustration.

* * *

"Alright, one more goal and then we head in," said Flint loudly from the goal posts as Montague whipped the Quaffle in his direction. Cassius sighed in relief. He'd just about had it with Quidditch. Flint had invited Montague over for practice drills, although his motive hadn't been purely charitable; his father was hosting the Debutante Ball this year in order to push his half-sisters into the spotlight and the prospect of being trapped in his house, no matter how large it was, with a hundred teenage girls had horrified him. Montague, delighted with the prospect of practicing in preparation for future scouts, had all but dragged Cassius along in order to give him a "taste of real Quidditch." He'd refused to believe that Cassius didn't want to play in the Big Leagues. And here he was now, four very long hours later, drenched in sweat despite the cold December air. If this was a taste of real Quidditch, he never wanted to fly again. At least, not with Montague and Flint.

As though his prayers had been heard, a sudden whoosh sent a chilly blast of air in his direction and he could hear a strange clattering sound from overhead. He glanced up, and nearly fell off his broom in shock as a giant carriage pulled by two blindingly white Granians shot past him.

"Shit! They're here!" Flint howled in dismay. "Come on, we have to get inside before they see us or else father will kill me."

"Forget your father," said Montague, glancing downwards, "Here come your sisters!"

Cassius looked down towards the house and indeed, Flint's two half-sisters had made their way out of the house and were motioning wildly at them.

Flint rolled his eyes and gestured rudely at them before pointing his broom towards the ground and shooting downwards. Montague and Cassius joined him.

"Get inside! You're filthy, all of you!" Helen, the older, fatter sister shrieked while Elizabeth, the horse-faced younger sister nodded violently. Cassius winced at the sight of them, for they were both dressed in the most unbecoming candy-coloured satin dresses which made them look rather like a pair of particularly horrid iced cakes. It was as though Helen had inherited all of the Flint girth while Elizabeth had inherited the height.

"Yeah, yeah, we're going," Flint muttered, glaring at the two. "Not like either of you are debuting this year anyway," he added under his breath.

"What?" said Elizabeth sharply, whacking her younger brother over the side of the head. Cassius and Montague glanced at each other, secretly laughing whilst struggling to keep a straight face.

"Oi!"

"Get inside! Now!"

"Bitch."

"Pig! Go or I'll tell father that you're ruining our luncheon!"

"You'll ruin it with your face," Marcus retorted hotly before storming into the house as Cassius and Montague followed him, no longer bothering to even conceal their looks of amusement as the two sisters were now behind them.

"And don't even think about showing your faces," said Helen as Flint led Cassius and Montague up the stairs.

"Or what?" said Marcus snidely, "You'll tell on me?"

"Just go, you nasty little twat!"

The boys climbed the stairs without another word, though Flint stomped hard enough that Cassius feared he'd put a hole through the steps.

"Well," said Montague suddenly, "No wonder they're not married yet."

Cassius held back a snort as Flint whipped around and glared dangerously at his friend.

"What did you say about my sisters?"

Montague looked at him with wide eyes, before holding his hands up innocently.

"Nothing, mate! Just that Adrian's a real lucky bloke is all!"

* * *

Flint Manor was located in a wild, hilly landscape covered in a coat of thick white snow and as the carriage suddenly pitched forward, Alicia caught a glimpse out the window of a local village with tiny wisps of smoke that drifted into the air from the outskirts of the estate.

"Quaversham March- it's a wizarding village," Sophie explained, catching Alicia staring out the window. "The Flints held a title until all that was abolished in the last century. All the big families are tied to little villages like that. The entire estate is unplottable - another reason why we had to take carriages - only animals can find it. Lean back now, we're about to land!"

Alicia braced herself for impact as the carriage started to straighten out, and she let out a grunt as it landed with a thud next to another carriage. Her hands shot out by instinct to stop her from propelling forward.

"Merlin, these things need seat belts!"

* * *

The Manor reminded Alicia of a medieval fortified castle without all the crumbling bits, and its grim stone architecture was a strange contrast to her grandparents' island villa with its large windows and white exterior that looked over onto the ocean. Here, instead of the ocean were hills of white, but these weren't like the hills of Hogwarts, which were overwhelming in their magnitude. It was simply... monotonous. Beautiful, yes, but monotonous. She hated the Villa, with all that it meant, but compared to the foreboding Manor before her and the endless stretch of white around it, the villa was a haven.

Alicia followed her grandmother into the manor, led by a house elf who'd been stationed outside to await the carriages. The elf snapped its fingers and the heavy, wooden knob-less doors slowly, silently opened to reveal the inside. Another house elf stood in the doorway and greeted them in its squeaky voice before ushering them in. They walked silently, except for their heels clicking against the marble floors, and she was suddenly reminded of the Slytherin locker room. Her cheeks flushed in irritation and in embarrassment.

The house elf led them to a heavy set of double wooden doors, and with the snap of its fingers, the doors opened wide.

"Lady Sophie DeWitt and her granddaughter, Alicia Spinnet," the house elf announced in its gravest voice.

Alicia sucked in her breath and waited for the staring to begin.

She was not disappointed.

Almost immediately, a collective murmur filled the air as Sophie led Alicia into the room, head held high. Alicia wildly scanned the room in search of Angelina, and she nearly died of relief when her good friend caught her eye and gave her a slight nod.

"Over there," Alicia muttered to her grandmother. Before Sophie could say anything, Alicia strode over towards Angelina's table, where was seated with her mother and another debutante and her chaperone.

"Alicia," said Angelina with an obvious tone of relief as she stood. Alicia leaned in for a hug, but a sharp nudge from her grandmother reminded her _no hugs, la bise!_ Angelina sniggered softly.

Alicia inwardly cursed the French and gave Angelina a kiss on each cheek, before doing the same with her mother and introducing herself to the other debutante and her chaperone.

"I am Stefania Morenz," said the girl stiffly, who was as short as Alicia but as svelte as Angelina. Her tightly wound curls bobbed as she none too discreetly eyed Alicia up and down with a look of disdain. "This is my mother, Alexandra."

The entrance of another debutante saved Alicia from having to say anything more, and she sat down next to Angelina and her grandmother as everybody glanced towards the doors to see who had just come in.

"Countess Withers and her daughter, Lady Seraphina Tugwood."

Alicia stifled a snort and glanced at Angelina, who looked just as amused.

"Bubotuber pus," Angelina mouthed, referring to the Tugwoods' infamous late relative who had discovered the beautifying uses of Bubotuber pus.

"Pfft, Quidditch on horses," Alicia replied under her breath, referencing the other infamous Tugwood, Lord Stoddard Withers who had attempted to fuse polo and Quidditch a few centuries back.

"Alicia," Sophie hissed, keeping her eyes glued to the door and her smile perfectly etched on as she discreetly pinched Alicia from under the table.

Alicia winced and shot her grandmother a dirty look. The old bat beamed even harder.

* * *

"Now then, ladies," said the fatter of the two Flint sisters as the crowd of ladies followed her through the manor, "On the evening of the ball, you will enter from the left side of the corridor, and your escorts will enter from the right. A house elf will be in the lounge to direct you when it is your time. You will walk at the same time as your partner and you will meet here, at the top of the stairs. You will take your escort's arm, pause, and once you are introduced, you may descend together and be seated. Take a look at the tables around you. Each one has a name. Your seat today will be your seat at the ball. Take note if you think you will forget."

Alicia scoffed inwardly as several girls hurriedly scratched down the information into dainty little notebooks.

"Now, you will obviously be seated with your guests and those of your escort's. Please refrain from moving about until the dinner service is over. Once everything has been cleared away, the dancing will begin. Now then, for those of you who have _not_ participated in the etiquette courses over the past summer, please be reminded of the following: as old fashioned as it may be, one does not dance more than twice with any man, including one's escort. Furthermore, one does not dance with any man without first being introduced. If you must reject someone, you may not take up another caller's request for that same dance..."

_Blahblahblahblahblah_.

"...and finally, absolutely no form of modern or muggle dancing is allowed. Specifically, anybody seen... _gyrating_ in any way, shape or form will be escorted out and asked not to return. Such vulgarities may belong in _Department 69_, but they are absolutely forbidden at this ball. Now then, are there any questions?"

* * *

"And anybody seen _gyrating_ in any way, shape or form will be escorted out and asked not to return!" Alicia sneered sarcastically to herself as she walked down the corridor in search of the bathroom. Had she already been down this way? The suit of armour seemed awfully familiar... it was like being in Hogwarts again for the first time, each corridor blending in with the last. Her grandmother had been aghast when Alicia had excused herself - _ladies do not relieve themselves in public!_ - but there were some lines that simply had to be crossed. This was one of them. Now if only she'd actually asked for directions...

It occurred to her suddenly that she was in a magical home filled with moving, talking portraits who probably knew the home better than it's current occupants. She stole a glance at a portrait of a particularly well-endowed woman a large wobbling chin and watery blue eyes. While her expression was by no means friendly, she certainly seemed a lot more open to conversation than the two darkly clad gentlemen in the frame adjacent to hers, who looked to be in the midst of conspiring.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything, however, she was interrupted by an all-too familiar voice that asked in a eerily kind voice,

"Lost, are we?"

Alicia swallowed anxiously and slowly turned around, gently fingering the outline of her wand, which was discreetly hidden away in an invisible pocket in her dress.

"Spinnet!" said Montague, looking and sounding momentarily surprised.

"Montague," she replied as coolly as possible, though her heart raced in horror as she thought about the last time she'd been so close to the horrid prick. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I should be asking you the same thing. A bit out of place here, aren't you?"

He stepped closer to her, and she fought the urge to back away.

"I'm looking for the loo -

"Oh, that's not what I meant, and you know it, DeWitt."

He stopped in front of her and she shuddered as his smell invaded her nostrils. He smirked, as though he knew what she was thinking about.

"I don't like you, but I think you'd make for a good lay," said Montague out of nowhere. "Must be a reason why Warrington's so... keen on coming back to you, hmm? Did he ask you to be his whore yet?"

He reached out and she slapped his hand away. He laughed coldly, his voice ringing down the corridor.

"He's here right now you know. Next corridor over. I could fuck you right here, cast a little _silencio_ on you, maybe a tie your arms back so you couldn't move - and he'd never know a thing. Nobody would know a thing. You _are_ lost, after all."

Alicia fought back the urge to vomit and clutched her wand in her pocket.

"You're disgusting," she snarled with as much animosity as she could muster, though her voice quavered and she knew by the look on his face that he'd heart it too.

"Hell, I'd probably end up doing old Cassius a favour - I'm almost quite certain it'd turn him off of you if he ever found out that I used you all up... maybe get him back to normal even."

Montague reached out for her again and this time, Alicia shoved him back with all her force - which, sadly, turned out not to be much. Worse, he took advantage of their physical contact to wrap his arms around her, one pinning her arms to her side, the other around her neck. She gasped for air as he squeezed just a little tighter.

"You should be more careful when you find yourself in the enemy's den," he hissed into her ear, his callused thumb running over her lower lip almost painfully as he momentarily slacked his hold around her neck. "Halfblood. Absolutely useless. And to think you've a wand on you..."

Alicia shuddered as the arm around her waist slid down to skim her sides.

"Ah, there it is," he murmured as his hand ran over the outline of her wand. "Bitches can be clever... invisible pockets, all for the sake of fashion." He pulled out her wand and dangled it in front of her face, tightening his hold over her neck so that she couldn't try to escape when his arm left her waist.

Suddenly, he let her go, and she spluttered for air as Montague leaned casually against the wall, tossing her wand into the air and catching it, grinning mockingly at her.

"You fucking bastard," she snarled.

"Mistaken identity much, DeWitt?" he asked cheerfully. The sound of a door shutting somewhere nearby echoed down the corridor. Montague smirked at her as the sound of footsteps began to reverberate in their direction.

"Must be your knight in shining armour, though last I hear you two had a bit of a tiff, did you?"

Alicia glanced wildly behind her before returning her gaze to Montague.

"Where's my wand, you slimy sonofabitch?"

"Language, Spinnet, honestly, one would think a debutante would have some manners! Look down."

Alicia followed Montague's gaze and gritted her teeth. He'd tucked her wand behind his feet.

"Go on," he said encouragingly. "I won't kick you."

"Fuck you."

"Well, I might if you insist on talking to me like that!"

Alicia fought the urge to kick him in between the legs, and threw him a dirty look before crouching down to reach for her wand. Montague kicked it back behind him so that it rolled right up against the wall. She looked up at him furiously, and he smirked.

"Looks like you'll have to get on all fours for that," he said silkily.

"You prick," she hissed. His cold green eyes glittered menacingly.

"So I've been told. Better grab your wand before I change my mind... I just might kick you after all. And normally I'm not the type of bloke who goes around hitting girls, but I think you've proven to me enough times on the pitch that you actually enjoy things... rough."

Alicia flushed at his horrid innuendo and she glared up at him as he shifted his stance wider so that she couldn't simply reach around him to grab the wand without risking a good kick to the side of the head. He smirked down at her, nodding encouragingly, thumbs resting casually on his belt loops.

"What are you waiting for?"

With a growl of anger, she quickly dropped down to her hands and reached out for her wand, pretending with all her might that she was not presently on all fours in a chiffon dress in Flint Manor, crawling in between one Graham fucking Montague's legs. She'd just managed to grab her wand when suddenly a slow clap and a low whistle pierced her eardrums.

"Found yourself a debbie already, have you?" said the all-too-familiar voice of Marcus Flint.

"Oh, not just any old debbie," Montague replied as Alicia quickly shot onto her feet and whirled around, face flaming, wand out. She stared, horrified, at an equally aghast and amused Marcus Flint and a terribly emotionless Cassius Warrington.

The three of them stared at each other in silence for a moment as Montague fiddled around with his belt -

With his belt?

Alicia twirled around, praying feverishly that the sodding git hadn't done what he'd just done, but as Montague stared back at her, eyes sparkling with cold triumph, she knew that she'd just been played. Bad.

"Not bad, Spinnet," Montague drawled, "Though you could stand to use a bit of practice."

Alicia raised her hand to punch him in the face, anywhere, anything to get him to shut the fuck up, but somebody's hand clamped down on her wrist from behind her. Cassius. She was too angry to cry, too mortified to say a word -

She wrenched herself out of his grasp and turned to face him. He stared back at her, face blank, but eyes drawn and frozen.

"I'd wipe my mouth if I were you Spinnet," he said coldly, "Wouldn't do to go back to your little luncheon with lipstick all over your face. People might get the... wrong idea."

Smeared lipstick? Fucking Montague, he'd planned the whole goddamn thing from the second that door had slammed. She tore off her white kid glove and ran the back of her hand violently over her mouth. Pink.

In the meantime, the three boys had started walking away, Flint and Montague chuckling quietly amongst themselves as Cassius walked steadily behind them, each step stiff with rage. Alicia looked up from her hand and stared at their retreating backs, unable to accept what had just happened until she was left alone in the corridor with nothing but her pink-stained skin as a souvenir of how far she'd fallen down the rabbit hole.

* * *

**Read and review! **

**What did you guys think? Montague's turning out a lot slimier than I'd thought he would but he's pretty much just writing himself out... he cares about Cassius in his own messed up way... he knows war's coming just as well as they all do and I think he's just doing what he can to get them separated, while having some (terrible) fun at the same time. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Okay, here it is - next chapter, a little early as my apology gift for being so slow on the last update. **

**There's a lot of material here so feel free to leave questions/comments/critiques for me. They really help me to develop the story better. **

**I agree with you guys on Montague being hard to read. He definitely comes off as a prick, which he is. But he does care about Cassius, and he doesn't want to see him hurt or killed. At the same time, he really doesn't like Alicia. The two things play hand in hand, which, I guess make him come off as extra douchey. **

**Anyway, enjoy this chapter and R/R as always!**

**PS**

**Thanks to Chkale, Sibel88, Guest and Etoile Black for your comments! XOXO**

* * *

As Cassius listened to Montague and Flint go on about bullshit for the next hour, he slowly stewed in his anger and jealousy while he sipped on his umpteenth glass of _Ogden's_, glaring into the fireplace as he tried to sort himself out.

Alicia and Graham. It made him sick just to hear the two names together, echoing in his head. Worse than Alicia and _Carson _even. At least Bishop was a soft, sorry twat. But Montague... well. That was a different story. Cassius glanced over at him in disgust. He would have killed him by now if it weren't for the fact that Flint was sitting right there, would have skimmed him alive, taken a deep pleasure in hearing him scream for mercy.

But had she really done it?

That was the question that echoed in his mind. He wouldn't put it past Montague at having set the whole thing up... and yet the more he drank, the more he thought about the last time he'd been with her, how she'd gone on about what might happen if Montague were to ever proposition her... how she'd gone on about how good a bleeding snog he was -

"Fuck!"

His glass had shattered, and Cassius hissed in pain as the firewhiskey seeped into his wounds.

"_Reparo_," said Flint lazily as the same time as Montague murmured, _"Episkey_."

Cassius cleaned off his jeans with the flick of his wand and angrily reached for the bottle to refill his glass. Flint seized it before he got to it.

"I think you've had enough, mate," he said, looking amused. "What's your problem anyway?"

"Nothing," Cassius spat.

Flint snickered.

"Right. Well you're still not getting any - at the rate you're going, you might just end up in St. Mungo's for a stomach pumping."

"Fine, fuck you both -

"Oi, what did I do?" said Montague innocently, as Flint's eyes flashed dangerously. Cassius stood up violently, glaring at Montague.

"What did _you_ do? _Fuck you _Montague -

Flint stood up and shoved Cassius back before he could launch himself on top of Montague, who was leaning back in his seat, lazily staring up at him as though nothing was amiss.

"What the hell's your problem Warrington?" Flint barked. "Merlin's balls, can't handle a bit of drink? You haven't said anything in the past hour, and all of a sudden you lose it? If I didn't think you were a decent bloke, I'd fucking do you in right now. So do yourself a favour and go home before you piss me off. Get some rest. Maybe not touch another drink until you man the fuck up."

Cassius threw a dirty look at Montague before snatching a handful of Floo powder from the ornate carved wooden box Flint held out to him.

"What's your address?"

Cassius stared blankly at Flint.

"Tell me your address," Flint repeated, "So I know you're not going to slur it up and end up in some fireplace in China."

"I'm not that fucking toasted," Cassius snarled.

"Then tell me your address."

Cassius ignored him and tossed the powder into the fireplace. He stepped into the green flames without bothering to grace his companions with a glance or a word of goodbye.

"Berkley House, 47 Bramwood Lane, London."

* * *

"That bad?" asked her father as Alicia entered the pub from upstairs, makeup and hair still done, though she'd changed into a pair of sweatpants and an old jumper.

"Worse," Alicia mumbled as she sat down at the bar next to a couple regulars. "Hi Mr. Michaels. Mum's having it out with gran through the Floo... er, through the phone right now. Couldn't handle the arguing. Their voices just get higher and higher - bloody sounds like a banshee giving birth up there."

"Well what happened?"

What happened? Where to even begin?

Alicia looked up, startled, as her father placed a pint in front of her.

"Butterbeer?" she asked hopefully. Her father kept a secret stash of alcohol from the wizarding world under the bar for magical clientele. It'd been her mother's suggestion to increase business, as there was a rather large concentration of magical folk in the neighbourhood.

She accepted the pint gratefully, and her father shook his head.

"And to think you used to crawl around on top of this bar, and now your _day-beauting_."

Alicia snorted.

"I'd give anything to be able to crawl around again. I hate getting old."

"Hey!" said her father in mock offence, "If you're old, what does that make me?"

"Ancient," said Alicia, ducking as her father attempted to swot her head.

"What's all this?"

"Hi mum. I'm sorry about -

"Oh don't be. You grandmother's insane."

"What happened?" her father repeated.

"Oh nothing, Alan. You know my mother. Bloody drama queen. Apparently Alicia hd to use the loo and she disappeared for a bit - got lost in that great hulking manor, big surprise there - and they _almost had to send out a search party_! Mother's delicate sensibilities were offended. That's about it." _  
_

_That's about it._

If only.

Before the conversation could go on, the door swung open, letting in a gust of wind and some wet snow as Florence and Skylar hurried in, slamming the door behind them.

"Sorry we're late, walking's just impossible in this weather."

"Oh it's not a problem," said Aurora, taking their shopping bags as they peeled off their layers. "Anyway, the show doesn't start until eight."

"The show?" Alicia repeated.

Alan let out a groan.

"Your mother wanted to go see -

"_Sense and Sensibility_," said Aurora gleefully.

Alicia and Skylar glanced at each other and sniggered loudly.

"Really, dad? _You're_ going to go see a Jane Austen?"

"Oh, don't you worry your little heads about it," said Alan conspiratorially. He glanced at his wife with a sneaky grin. "You'll be more than making up for it tonight -

"DAD!" Alicia shrieked in horror, as Skylar let out a cough of embarrassment.

"What? Don't tell me you think you're Jesus re-incarnate! Your mother certainly wasn't a -

"DAD! Stop! Oh my god, come on Sky, let's get out of here before I puke."

"Didn't your mother talk about the birds and the bees with you?" Alan shouted after the girls, laughing at them along with the bar patrons who'd witnessed the whole thing. "And don't forget to behave! Florrie's going to watch the bar while we're out!"

* * *

"God, my dad's so gross sometimes," Alicia mumbled as she and Skylar flopped onto her bed.

"So? I think it's cute that your parents are so in love with each other. Hell, at least you've got a dad."

Alicia mentally smacked herself in the head for being so insensitive. She opened her mouth to apologize but Skylar cut her off.

"Don't. Anyway, I didn't tell you -

"Tell me what?"

"I got us tickets to _Department 69_'s New Year's Eve extravaganza!"

"What? How -

Skylar smirked as she waved the tickets in Alicia's face.

"This bloke I'm seeing -

"Hang on, seeing or _seeing_?"

Skylar rolled her eyes.

"Alright, this bloke that I've been _shagging_, his cousin's best friend is the son of the owner so he got me tickets!"

"But you're underage!"

"_Hello_, what part of connections don't you understand?"

"Hey, wait a second - does your mum know? My mum told me you guys were going back to France for Christmas."

Skylar gave her a wide grin.

"Well that's just the beauty behind the whole thing, isn't it? We _are_ going back to France, but - _  
_

And suddenly it dawned on her.

"You fucking genius," Alicia crowed.

_Department 69_ was a world-famous wizarding club due to its sheer size and history. It was a massive four-storey club that was renowned for being the only club that catered to both the magical community and the muggle community. It could be entered through Diagon Alley or through muggle London. Once inside, the club was split off into two sides, though witches and wizards could access the muggle side at will. The club was so popular that it actually had its own special apparition point inside, as well as an international portkey station manned by actual Ministry workers and several fireplaces connected to the Floo Network. While Alicia had never been, her parents used to go often enough when she was young, and her mother had described the place to her in detail on several occasions.

"Hang on a sec," said Alicia suddenly. "Isn't that where -

"Yep," said Skylar nonchalantly.

Where she'd been conceived. Sort of. Florrie claimed she couldn't remember the night she'd met Skylar's mysterious father, for there had apparently been copious amounts of liquor and possibly some drugs involved that New Year's Eve, nearly seventeen years ago. All she could remember was that he was French. And tall, which Alicia and Skylar had deduced, for Skylar had not evidently not inherited her leggy model-esque height from her small mother.

"So... so how are you going to get away, then?"

Skylar rolled her eyes.

"Mum's not an idiot - she knows I'm not going to want to spend New Year's with her. I dunno what's the matter with her - she _hates_ New Years. I swear, look at her on New Year's and you'd think somebody died! I've been telling her, you need to get out more, you need to get laid! And you know what she said to me? _Not everybody needs to sleep around in order to feel loved_! What a bitch! And then she goes, _you can't keep blaming me for your dad not being around_. As if that has anything to do with anything!"

Alicia stared at her, stunned.

"She said that?"

Skylar snorted.

"Yeah. Well. Typical. She probably just feels guilty and has to take it out on me. I mean, merlin's balls, how many kids get to go and say 'oh, my dad? Well my mum can't exactly remember who he is to be honest with you.' I swear, she's more affected by it than I am. C'mon, let's get out of here - what are your cousins doing? I brought some hash back from school. Hey, did you hear that new Coolio song by the way? _Gangster's Paradise_ - I bet one of the boys has it on tape already. Oh, man, they're going to flip when I show them some of the shit they've got going in France..."

* * *

_The Bone and Arrow_.

Was he really so stupid and desperate that he was willing to actually go visit her on her home territory?

Possibly.

Definitely.

The pub was called _The Bone and Arrow_, he remembered her once telling him, _a bit of a shit hole, but I am rather fond of it_.

He was mad. Her parents could be there. And how would he explain himself then? _Oh, how do you do Mr and Mrs - Mrs? - Spinnet. I'm just the bloke who's been plowing your daughter while she's at school. Her boyfriend? Oh, no, not me, sir. I'm the Other guy._

No. Not mad. Just drunk.

"I'm not even that drunk," Cassius said to himself, which was mostly true. He's taken a good long nap, and while his steps were not quite as steady as they could be, at least things had stopped spinning since he'd been spat out of the fireplace on all fours some two hours earlier. The only problem was the nausea, really.

"Are you sure about that?" asked one of the portraits coyly.

"Oh sod off."

"Well!" the portrait giggled. "You Warringtons certainly don't seem to change!"

Cassius glared at the portrait of a woman named Giulietta, who'd been his great-great grandfather's mistress. She'd been a curvaceous beauty with a handsome face, one of the rare pureblood mistresses on the wall of portraits, for having a pureblood mistress had been nearly impossible in the days of blood magic marriages.

Cassius continued to walk down the stairs, ignoring the tittering mistresses of Warringtons past, and wandered his way to the kitchen where Tally, the house elf his father had given him, was busy preparing him a meal.

"Master Warrington!" the elf squeaked in fear.

"I is just readying you your dinner sir!"

The elf brought him a tall glass filled with some thick burgundy liquid.

"It is hangover cure!" the elf explained, bowing deeply before him.

Cassius stared blankly at the elf.

"A hangover cure?"

"Yes, Tally finds it in recipe box - portrait of old mistress tells me you will like it."

Cassius stared into the glass and sniffed it. The fact that it had no odour rendered him suspicious.

"Mistress warns you must drink it all quickly without breathing."

He hesitantly brought the glass to his lips while Tally nodded in encouragement. He shut his eyes and quickly chugged it back, willing himself not to vomit as the thick liquid slid down his throat. It tasted like a mixture of smoke, sour milk and tomatoes.

"Hangover cure my arse," he spluttered. "If I don't puke now -

He blinked.

It had actually worked. The nausea had disappeared. Alright, he felt a bit tipsy still, but no more nausea. He took a cautious step forward and his stomach didn't lurch. Well, well, would wonders never cease?

Tally beamed at him.

"Master is feeling better? Dinner is ready - where is master wanting to eat?"

"Here's fine," Cassius muttered, motioning at the little round breakfast table. He didn't like sitting in the dining room alone with nothing but the portraits for company. Eery couldn't even begin to describe the feeling.

"Master is certain?" Tally asked. "If I is in your way -

"No, it's fine. Do whatever it is you do. I'm leaving anyway."

_**Are you?**_

Cassius ignored the voice in his head and sat down at the table as Tally placed a large plate of mashed potatoes, green beans and a massive steak before him.

"What is master liking for drink?"

"Water," said Cassius, cringing at the word drink.

He ate silently, watching the falling snow through the window over the sink as Tally cleaned the kitchen.

_The Bone and Arrow_. Even the name sounded foreboding. And what if she wasn't even there? She could still be with her grandmother. And anyway, what was the point? It wasn't as if they were ever going to _see_ each other again. She had Carson sodding Bishop, and apparently Montague too.

Cassius swore loudly, and the house elf jumped in fear.

"Is master angry with Tally?" the elf squeaked.

"No," Cassius muttered. "Everything's fine."

The house elf looked at him in disbelief.

"I said everything's fine! It's not the food. Food's great. Just... just get back to work or whatever."

"Yes sir!"

Fucking house elves... sometimes they were too desperate to please.

He tried to picture what he'd say to her, her reaction at seeing him standing her in father's pub, in her home. Things could happen in one of two ways: either she'd throw him out and tell him never to talk to her again, or she'd beg him for forgiveness, begging him to allow her to explain herself.

**_There's nothing to explain, you arse. You saw it yourself. Hell, for all you know, she could have been with him at school. Bit odd isn't it that she brought up Montague last time?_**

_Fuck off._

**_She's over you, mate. She's got her boyfriend and she's got her new boy toy too, and it definitely isn't you._**

Cassius slammed his fork and knife down on the table angrily, and violently rose onto his feet, causing the chair to clatter onto the floor. The house elf cowered back as Cassius passed it.

"I've got something to take care of," Cassius muttered. "You can leave the food out. I'll eat it later."

* * *

Outside it was windy and wet. Cassius stood on his doorstep and looked around. No muggles to be seen. He couldn't apparate until he reached the sidewalk, because the property itself had an anti-apparition ward over it.

Apparating was an unpleasant task sober. It felt ten times worse post-hangover-still-tipsy. The feeling of being squeezed through a tube not only made his stomach lurch unpleasantly, for a second, Cassius feared he might have splinched himself.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a little parkette on the corner of a small intersection. He groaned, realizing he'd landed in a cold puddle. The name on the sign next to him said _Apparition Point Ward E-12_. He looked himself up and down and wiggled all his toes and fingers as he'd been taught by his apparition instructor to ensure that everything was still in place. He reached up to touch his ears. All good.

Cassius had never used an apparition point before, for he'd never travelled great distances in muggle London. The ministry had installed apparition points throughout muggle England so that one did not have to risk being seen by muggles when apparating, and each point was indicated on a great map that every licensee was given upon passing the apparating test. As he looked around him, he noticed that he was in a residential neighbourhood that looked as though it had seen better days.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, he took another look around. The streets were deserted, though most of the houses had lights lit. He glanced at his watch. Eight o'clock.

Was he really doing this? Merlin, if only his father could see him now - or lord forbid, his mother.

What was he going to say?

_**Fuck Montague and dump your boyfriend? I'll forgive you for sucking off my best friend because I'm so goddamn sad and useless I might as well go hang myself? Look at yourself. You're disgusting. You're worse than Bishop. You're worse than a Ravenclaw. Fuck it, you're worse than a Hufflepuff!**_

Cassius lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply as he began to walk in the direction of _The Bone and Arrow_, trying desperately to ignore his voice of reason. He just needed to see her - just for a second - he just needed to hear her beg for his forgiveness, for anything -

_**Why should she ask your forgiveness? She's not your girlfriend - let her fuck around with whoever she wants behind Bishop's back.**_

Cassius ignored the voice and continued to walk, glancing at a group of young men who were leaning idly against a fence in front of a building, passing around a spliff and a bottle of something or other.

"You looking at something, wanker?" one of them called out sharply.

Cassius paused and glanced back over his shoulder. Muggles. And not just any muggles - _poor_ muggles. They were dressed in baggy jeans that fell somewhere between their arses and their knees and worn-out oversized parkas.

They sauntered up to him, hands shoved in their pockets, faces drawn in callous sneers.

"Well, well boys, looks like we've got ourselves a posh little twat. You lost, wanker? Tell you what, you give us everything you have and we'll let you go, no harm done."

Cassius let out a snort. He could have all three of them flat on their backs with the flick of his wrist if he wanted to. The smallest one didn't even look like he'd hit puberty yet.

"You laughing at me, you piece of shit? What's the matter, cat got your tongue? Go on, say one word and I swear I'll cut it out -

"Where's the _Bone and Arrow_?"

If the boys were expecting him to say something, that certainly wasn't it. They exchanged strange glances with each other before the leader demanded,

"Who wants to know?"

Cassius licked his lips. Dry.

"I take it you know where it is then."

"Like I said, mother fucker, who wants to know?"

"What does it matter?"

The boy grabbed Cassius by the collar, his dark eyes flashing dangerously.

"If I say it matters, it fucking matters. Answer the question or I'll take up my promise and cut your tongue out."

Cassius licked his lips again and opened his mouth to speak when one of the boys suddenly cut him off.

"Oi, Angel, he's got one of them crests on his scarf like Alicia has."

Cassius and the boy holding him up glanced sharply at the one who had spoken.

"Show me your scarf," he demanded, grabbing Cassius' scarf before he could even answer. The boy, Angel, examined his scarf closely. It was completely black except for the Hogwarts crest at one end and the Slytherin crest at the other.

"This is your lucky day," Angel spat, shoving him back. "Whatchu looking for Alicia for?"

Cassius smoothed down his coat and stared coolly back at the boy.

"How do you know Alicia?"

"I asked you first," Angel snarled at the same time as the youngest of the three exclaimed, "We're her cousins, dickhead!"

"Shut your mouth Carlos." Angel stared at Cassius for a moment.

"You her boyfriend or something, then?"

Cassius licked his lips for the third time and mulled over an answer. _Or something_ might give them the wrong idea, so he shrugged.

"Yeah," he replied smoothly. "I'm her boyfriend."

"So then how come you don't know where she lives?" the little one, Carlos, demanded.

"Don't be stupid," said the third cousin, "Does he look like he comes down this way ever?"

Angel ignored the others and glanced Cassius up and down one more time.

"Yeah, alright. We'll take you to the pub. Can't promise you'll leave in one piece though. What did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't," Cassius replied as Carlos gleefully exclaimed _Uncle Pink's going to break your face in!_

"Well what is it then?" Angel demanded. "Can't keep on calling you wanker, now can I? Alicia won't stand for it."

"No," said Cassius agreeing, "She wouldn't, would she?" He paused to light himself another cigarette. "It's Cassius. Cassius Warrington."

The boys glanced at each other and burst out laughing.

"Even your name makes you sound like a tosser," Carlos announced matter-of-factly. "Uncle Pink's going to hate you."

Cassius followed the boys to the pub, answering their questions as vaguely as possible as they grilled him about his background and how he came to be with Alicia. They laughed when he refused their offer of weed and drink, and laughed even harder when he explained he'd spent a good part of the afternoon sloshed.

"Then you're fucked," said Michael, the third cousin. "Uncle Pink'll force you to drink 'til you spill all your secrets or your stomach."

"Why?" asked Cassius suspiciously. "Alicia bring boyfriends over before?"

The boys snorted.

"Alicia? No. You'll be the first. But he's done that with all my sister's boyfriends -

"And mine," said Carlos gleefully, "And none of them last."

"And it'll be worse for you," said Angel loftily. "Alicia's his baby girl."

Cassius groaned at the thought of more drinks and was increasingly worried by the idea of meeting Alicia's father. Obviously, he had not thought this plan of his through. In fact, he hadn't really thought much at all. But, as Angel announced in disbelief, it turned out that Cassius was "blessed by a motherfucking angel and it isn't me, wanker" because as they passed the large windows of the pub in order to reach the front door, Carlos exclaimed, "It's only Florrie!"

"Who's Florrie?"

"Florrie's Skylar's mum," said Carlos, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Angel rolled his eyes.

"You're an idiot. You think he knows who Skylar is?"

"You're the idiot! Skylar went to their school too -

"Yeah, past tense shithead, went. Hit the books. Florrie's Auntie Aurora's best friend. She's sort of like our aunt too. Except I'm not going in there - she doesn't exactly like me right now. You're on your own, wanker - I mean, Cassius," Michael explained.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have gone around sticking your great dick into everything that moves," Angel snorted.

Cassius raised an eyebrow.

"Er, yeah, well me and Skylar - well let's just say Florrie didn't take too kindly to me deflowering her daughter," said Michael sheepishly. "What? It's not like I forced it on her! Hell, she came onto me!"

"Yeah, well it's not like you said no either. And I don't think it helped that she was fourteen, you prick."

"So? I was fourteen too."

Cassius watched in amusement as the cousins bickered, until Michael suddenly dashed away from the windows to hide by the wall where he couldn't be seen from inside.

"Shit, you think she saw me?" he asked.

"She definitely saw you, arsewipe. You're an idiot. And it's been what, two years? I doubt she still hates you. Oh look, here she comes, you can ask her yourself," Angel sneered as they walked over towards him.

"Fuck that. You lot coming or what?"

The boys glanced back through the window and waved.

"Yeah, alright. Say hi to Uncle Pink's fist for us if you see him," said Angel as they jogged away.

Cassius looked away from their retreating forms and reached out to open the door. It swung open before he got to it.

"Where are you boys - _Evan_?" the woman, Florrie, gasped in a choked voice of disbelief as she dropped an empty mug in shock. It shattered against the pavement in between them.

Cassius stared blankly at the woman, who shook her head at the sound and suddenly whipped out a wand, shoving it discreetly against his abdomen.

"Who the fuck are you and what do you want from me?" she hissed.

Cassius held his arms up in a gesture of acquiescence.

"I'm looking for Alicia," he said quickly. "Her cousins said she'd be here." The woman's face relaxed somewhat, though she didn't lower her wand. Somebody from inside the bar called out, "Trouble, Florrie?"

"No, it's alright Neil. Just dropped a glass is all."

She stared at him suspiciously.

"Who are you? And what do you want with Alicia?"

"Evan is - was my uncle," said Cassius slowly. His mother _did_ often comment about his resemblance to her brother. "I'm Cassius -

"Warrington," she finished for him, a funny look taking over the suspicious one on her face. "You're Cassius Warrington." She hesitantly lowered her wand. "Of course you are," she muttered to herself, before glaring at him once more. "What do you want with Alicia?" she repeated.

"I just need to talk her," he replied a lot more coolly than he felt. Something about the woman made him nervous, which was a rare occurrence, but the way she stared at him was... unsettling.

"Alicia's not here," she said finally. "You just missed her. Why do you need to see her? Last I checked Slytherins aren't exactly... fond of halfbood Gryffindors."

Cassius frowned.

"Your scarf," said the woman, gesturing at the Slytherin end of his scarf.

Cassius nodded.

"Right. Well. We're project partners."

"And you couldn't write to her instead?"

"Oi, Florrie, I'm just going to grab myself another pint, yeah?" somebody shouted from inside.

"Hold your horses, Jack, I'm coming!"

She glanced at him suspiciously one more time before opening the door wider to allow him in. Heads turned as he followed behind her.

"Who's the swot?"

"Friend of Alicia's."

"Oh-ho, Alicia's got herself a boyfriend has she?" said the old man at one end of the bar, eying Cassius down. "You just count your lucky stars, young man - missed her father by half an hour, you did."

"There you go," said Florrie, interrupting the old man by placing a pint in front of him.

"About time, old gel."

Florrie gestured for him to have a seat at the other end of the bar, by the cash register. Cassius looked around as he headed towards the seat. It was a small, dimly lit bar with black and white _unmoving_ photographs and vinyl records in frames decorating the walls. There were a few booths, a few tables, and the long bar with stools. A strange black box showed miniature people moving about, and Cassius could hear them talking...

"How do you know me?" said Cassius finally as he settled into the seat by the cash register.

Florrie didn't reply and instead observed him quietly, eyes shining in an eery way that put Cassius on alert. Though she was young enough - probably about his mother's age, which put her in her thirties - something in the way she looked at him made him think of somebody who'd perhaps seen things beyond their years. It was a look he was familiar with, a look that his parents' entire generation seemed to carry with them. Some just hid it better than others.

"You wouldn't remember me, I suppose," she mused after awhile. "I was working at St. Mungo's about... fourteen years ago."

Cassius froze. St. Mungo's? Fourteen years ago... She gave him a small nod.

"Remember me now?"

"Marielle," he said in a low voice. "You - you were Marielle's healer."

"Assistant healer," she corrected him sadly. "I was still in training at the time."

"You were there," he said hoarsely, sickened by the conversation's unexpected turn.

She handed him a drink and he accepted it gratefully as he remembered the horrors of the day Marielle had died, Marielle his baby sister who never grew old enough to properly say his name. _Cashi_, she would squeal when he'd pick her up. _Mon __Cashi_.

Somebody had held him back from trying to shake her awake... too young to properly understand why she wouldn't open her eyes, somebody had held him tight, stroking his hair while his mother had thrown her hysterics, cursing the healers, cursing his father, blaming him for his absence - and then she'd dragged him to Berkley Manner where they'd found him with his mistress... but it didn't matter. Marielle, petite Mimi who liked to tug his curls when he held her, who liked the way he and Montague would zip around her on their toy brooms shouting at each other, petite Mimi who cried when he didn't want to let her touch his books and his toys wouldn't wake up again...

He took a deep sip out of the mug. Butterbeer. He looked up in surprise.

"Why did you call me Evan?" he asked suddenly, remembering the intensity of the woman's surprise at seeing him standing in the doorway. She'd been frightened by him, frightened, and something else. "Last I checked muggleborn Ravenclaws aren't exactly... fond of Slytherins."

"Memory suddenly return? How convenient," she drawled, examining him as though he were some sort of bizarre creature.

"My mother liked to insult you if I remember correctly," he replied as calmly as possible. "I think _junky Ravenclaw_ was one of her favourites."

This was true. He suddenly remembered her shouting at the head healers about letting a _junky Ravenclaw mudblood _near her daughter on several occasions.

She gave him a long hard look before pouring herself a shot of vodka and knocking it back. She licked her lips and cringed at the taste.

"Shot?"

"I've been drinking all day."

"I can tell," she said wryly. "Looks like you poured salt in your eyes. It's a good think you missed Alan."

"So everybody keeps saying," said Cassius, glancing at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He did look like shit. He looked back up. Florrie stared back at him, always with that strange expression on her face. He looked away, unnerved by her ceaseless staring, and fiddled around with his lighter.

"You forgot the mudblood part," she said suddenly, after a moment of silence.

"Sorry?" he said awkwardly, which was a foreign emotion to him. In fact, this entire situation seemed utterly surreal.

"Mudblood," she repeated, as though he were mentally deficient. "You said she liked to insult me. You forgot the mudblood part. _Junky Ravenclaw mudblood_."

Cassius looked back at her, feeling slightly less intimidated all of a sudden.

"And you never answered my question," he retorted. "Why did you call me Evan? Hard to believe my uncle would have been on first-name basis with you," he said suspiciously as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "No offence," he added quickly, realizing that it might not be in his favour to offend Alicia's... 'aunt'.

"Chasers," she said suddenly, distantly, as he pulled a cigarette out.

"You want one?" he asked in a muffled voice as he lit the one in his mouth.

She took the pack from him, her eyes brighter - and more frightening - than before.

"Funny," she murmured in a tight voice. "You look just like him. He used to stand behind the greenhouses after class and sneak a drink or a fag when he thought nobody was watching."

Before Cassius could say anything about the strange comments, the door to the bar burst open and a tall Eurasian beauty sauntered in, followed by Carlos, Michael and Angel, two other girls who looked to be related to them, and finally, Alicia.

"See?" said Carlos triumphantly. "I told you we weren't lying - Alicia _does_ have a boyfriend!"

"Oh my god, Alicia, I can't believe you didn't even tell us!" squealed one of the girls, who looked to be around Michael's age. She marched up to Cassius, shoving aside the rest of the motley crew and stuck out her hand. "I'm Carina, Alicia's cousin, and you better treat her right or I'll tear your eyes out, comprende?"

"And I'll do her one better, _Warrington - _I promise no magic in the world will save you if you mess with Alicia," the Eurasian added with a dark look. Cassius could only imagine this was Skylar, whom Carlos had mentioned was a former Hogwarts student. But she didn't look to be old enough to have graduated, and he definitely would have remembered her if she had. She smirked at him, as though she could feel his confusion, and suddenly, something about her seemed familiar.

"It's alright guys," said Alicia suddenly, looking at him for the first time, her eyes hard and unforgiving. "_That_ isn't my boyfriend."

Suddenly, chaos erupted as the boys started shouting obscenities, threatening to_ kill the lying sonofabitch _as the girls fired questions at Alicia. The bar patrons looked on with mild interest, though it seemed to Cassius that they were rather used to the Spinnet clan, judging by their overall nonchalance.

"Quiet! All of you!" Florrie shouted at last, bringing silence over the bar. "All of you, out unless you're here to serve tables or wash dishes."

"But mum -

"You too, Skylar, this isn't any of your business. Obviously Alicia and... and her friend here are dealing with a little bit of a miscommunication. If Alicia wants to share the dirty details with you all later, she will. Now out before I call your parents!"

"But auntie -

"OUT!"

Cassius watched as the Spinnet clan, followed by Skylar, stomped out of the bar, muttering amongst themselves, only to stand outside, pressing their faces against the windows to watch what would happen.

"Now then. I imagine you two will sort out whatever problem it is you have quietly."

"There's nothing to sort out," said Alicia sharply. "He was just leaving. Weren't you, _Warrington_," she spat.

"Oh no he isn't," said Florrie loftily. "He'll stay until your parents return. I don't want to be the one who has to explain to your father what all the chaos was about."

"You don't understand!" said Alicia in a panicked voice. "He isn't my boyfriend!"

"Well you'll just have to explain that to your parents yourself," said Florrie. "Alan would kill me if he found out I let him go. And anyway, who said anything about a boyfriend? Cassius here was just telling me he came by to talk to you about some school project."

"I hate you," she hissed at him before glancing up at Florrie. "Alright, fine. But we're going upstairs, if you don't mind."

Florrie looked at them suspiciously for a moment.

"Alright, but no funny business. Your father has a nose for that sort of thing -

"He isn't my boyfriend!"

Florrie gave him another one of her unsettling looks before muttering to herself, "No, he isn't, is he?"

Cassius glanced back at her one last time before Alicia all but shoved him through a set of double doors. She gave him a slight nod as she lit a cigarette from the pack of _Chasers_he'd left on the bar.

* * *

**Questions? Comments? **

**I've noticed I get a lot more hits than reviews so for all those abstaining, please help a struggling writer out! Your reviews motivate me. **

**PS **

**So I really wanted Cassius to be a lot more... I guess intense in his reaction, but I had a hard time getting him worked up. I dunno, the characters all sort of write themselves. I suppose that's why he comes off as more depressed/lonely/hurt than angry/jealous. Don't get me wrong, he's definitely pissed and stuff, but I think he's starting to realize Alicia isn't like other girls to him. I know, slow much? *sigh* What can you do... boys will be boys... Not to mention, the whole Florrie thing really throws him off as well so he's just one big jumble of confusion at this point. lol listen to me, analyzing my own characters... but the truth is I'm just as lost as you are as to where this is going. I know how the storyline goes but the characters are really their own thing. **

**Anyway, leave me a review so I know if things are getting off track, especially character-wise. This is your story as much as it is mine so I want everybody to be happy! **


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks for all the reviews guys! It's so amazing to hear from you all! **

**As always, feel free to ask any questions and don't be shy about comments or critiques :)**

**S/O to: Etoile Black, supergirl818, chkale, sibel88, Stromsten and jadely31. **** You guys make my day! **

* * *

Cassius quickly examined the walls in the stairwell as Alicia ushered him up out of the bar by her hurried pace. Photographs lined the both sides of the narrow stairwell, asymmetrically hung up in a sporadic manner as though each one had been added over the course of time with no particular design plan in mind. It was quite the opposite of the Warrington and Rosier properties, which were periodically redesigned by his mother with purpose and intent over the years as she did her estate circuit, following the sun.

The photographs were an interesting mixture of both moving and unmoving, and the further up the stairs they went, it was as though they were travelling back through time. Cassius watched in astonishment as Alicia and the other photograph occupants grew younger and younger as he passed frame after frame, and it gnawed at his heart to see how happy a person she seemed. She was never that happy around him.

He paused at the top of the stairs and stared at a picture of when she had to have been just born, for in the picture after that, a smiling couple waved back at him and the woman, who resembled Alicia had she been blonde and fair, was heavily pregnant. Even as a baby, she'd been happy.

"Keep moving," she grunted, breaking the silence for the first time since she'd growled _I hate you_ at him earlier in the pub.

He stepped onto the landing and she shoved past him without a word.

He took a quick look around. It was an open-concept corridor that looked onto the kitchen and a little sitting room. Around the corner was another flight of stairs. The walls were decorated much like in the pub, with framed vinyls and vintage looking muggle advertisements, though there were a few vintage wizarding ads as well, like an old moving ad for the original Shooting Star featuring the now-famous chaser Gladius Royce who'd actually only recently passed away.

"Take off your boots," Alicia muttered as she stormed past him into the kitchen, refusing to look at his face. "You can hang your coat up on the wall."

"Er, thanks."

She didn't respond, and instead busied herself by throwing open the door to what looked like a gigantic wardrobe that emitted a light from the inside. Cassius stared in astonishment as she pulled out an assortment of food and drinks. Alicia glanced up to see why he was still standing by the entrance, and smirked at the look of curiosity on his face. She shut the door to the fridge with force, and the bottles on the inside of the door clinked loudly against each other.

She sat down at the breakfast bar on one of the stools and popped open the top of a contained which contained her father's famous Bailey's cheesecake. She immediately attacked it with her fork, despite the fact that her mother would have her head for it later, avoiding Cassius' burning gaze as she inhaled the creamy sweet goodness that missed her so while she was at school.

God, why on earth was he here? When she and Skylar had set out to find her cousins shortly after her parents had left for the cinema, the only thing she'd been expecting of her night was wandering about the streets, forgetting her shitty day with a pilfered bottle of rum and spliffs while keeping lookout for Angel and Michael if they decided to bomb a wall somewhere with their eloquent graffiti. Instead, the boys had ran into them at the local grammar school playground where she and the girls had been gossiping over drinks and weed, only to spoil her night by half-screaming, half-singing "Alicia has a boyfriend!" They hadn't even mentioned a name until her cousin Stella asked for it, and when the words _Cassius Warrington_ instead of _Carson Bishop _had tumbled out of Carlos' mouth just as they were about to burst into the bar, she'd nearly had a heart attack on the spot.

And here they were now.

In her home.

In her _parents' _home.

He was still standing by the stairs, looking half dumbfounded himself, as though _he_ wasn't the one who'd popped up out of nowhere to pay her a little visit without warning. And here _she_ was, sitting in the same spot she'd claimed as her own since her high-chair days, stoned, hungry and in disbelief. A heavy silence hung in the air, except for the sound of Alicia's fork scraping across the bottom of the plastic container every few seconds.

Rendered uncomfortable by his staring, she quickly slammed down the lid over the container and threw the fork into the sink along with her empty glass of milk before returning the cake to the fridge. She turned on her heel and walked into the living room, pretending that Cassius wasn't there. He could stand by the stairs all night for all she cared. Then when her parents came back, her father could happily throw him down to the bottom landing and that would be the end of that.

The_ nerve_, she thought to herself angrily as she flopped down on the old leather couch and flicked on the telly. After a moment of silence, she heard Cassius' footsteps approach, and she tensed as she felt his presence off to the side.

"Can I sit?" he finally ventured, and Alicia almost laughed at the insecurity in his voice. It was outstanding - Cassius, insecure? Timid, even? Afraid of _her_?

"Why are you asking me?" she retorted without looking up at him, keeping her eyes glued onto the screen, "You invited yourself over. Don't see why you need my permission to sit."

He remained standing.

"Alicia -

"Don't _Alicia_ me," she said shortly, repeating one of her mother's preferred line whenever she got into a tiff with her father. "Lord, just think what your _friends_ would say if they knew you were here. I bet Montague -

"_Don't_ say his name," Cassius snapped suddenly.

Alicia jumped onto her feet and glared at him with the most violent expression of hatred she could manage.

"_Fuck _you, Warrington," she said in her calmest voice possible. "Just... _fuck you_. You _don't_ get to come into _my _house - my _father's _house_ - _and tell _me_ what to do, do you understand?"

"Fuck, Alicia, you know I'm not trying to -

"Shut up, Cassius, just shut the fuck up. You had nothing to say to me for _two fucking weeks_ and all of a sudden you want to be Mr. Goddamn Mouthy?"

"Alicia -

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY MY NAME, _blood-traitor_!" she snarled, stomping forward until she was close enough to strangle him, close enough to smell him.

"Alicia!" he shouted back, suddenly losing control, his eyes wild unlike she'd ever seen them before. "That's your goddamn name, isn't it? Alicia, Alicia, Alicia - Alicia Jade Spinnet - don't tell me They call you Spinnet while you _fuck_ them -

She lunged at him before he could finish the sentence, her fist just barely clipping his chin as he dodged her. She whirled around and jumped at him again, half blind with tears and rage, shouting obscenities at him as he clasped his arms around her like Montague had earlier that day. She screamed at him, half out of fear, half out of anger, as she tried to pummel her fists against his chest, but his arms held her in a vice grip. Eventually she gave up and cried long and loud, hate mounting in her as disappointment set in. _I hate you, I hate you, I hate you_ -

He stroked her hair as she quieted down until all that pierced the air were her whimpers and his apologies, his own voice choked with something she didn't dare label as remorse. She wanted to throw up because it shouldn't have felt so good to be back in his arms. Never had there been anybody so pathetic, so shameless...

She shoved him off of her and they stood there, breathing heavily, staring wordlessly at each other.

"Why are you here?" she finally demanded, looking at him straight in the eye. "And don't you dare bullshit me or so help me god, I'll curse you right where you stand."

He stared back at her unhappily, this small, sad little girl who brandished her wand at him with cold weariness and hurt in her eyes.

"I had to know," he replied after a moment of silence, feeling stupid even before he said it, and she let out a hollow, barking laugh as she pocketed her wand.

"You're just sad, Cassius," she said suddenly, sliding down against the wall in front of the next flight of stairs so that her chin was pressed against her knees. And even as she looked away from him, staring up the stairs from the floor like some sorry child, he could hear the truth in her words and it made him sick. "You're just sad and I feel bad for you. You have no friends. You think friends do things like that? Fuck around with girls you like -

"I -

"What? Don't like me? I got it. I'm just some half-blood piece of shit. It's cool. I'll get over it." She paused and looked at him straight in the eye. "I'll get over _you_. And one day you'll think back and say to yourself, _I fucked up_. And it'll be too late. Maybe I'll be dead - who knows, war's coming, right? Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll live through all the bollocks. And maybe I'l be somebody else's - maybe I'll be _Carson's_. _Maybe_ I'll be _Graham_'s - _  
_

Her eyes pierced his own with a mocking expression, and it took him all his effort not to hurl the glass vase on the little stand next to him against the floor. She spoke again before he could open his mouth, her face twisted cruelly, humourlessly as she looked away from him once again. "And you... you'll just be your sad little self, wishing to the gods you'd had some dignity, fuck it - wishing you had some balls when it still mattered the most. Because you couldn't trust yourself enough to believe that we had something going, and because you couldn't trust _me_. So it's over. It's really over now. I should have put an end to this as soon as Carson asked me out. Carson's a good guy. He isn't like you. His friends aren't out to hurt the girl he likes because his friends aren't _cowards_. _He's _not a coward -

"And _he_ doesn't have the label _Death Eater_ practically stamped to his forehead!" Cassius interrupted furiously. "You think this is easy for me? To watch you walk around with that twat, laughing with him while he slobbers all over you? To have to admit - god, to have to admit that I actually _like _you? Fuck, that I actually _love_ you? Knowing that if I _ever_ acknowledge you in public that you'll have a bullseye attached to your name?

Screw you, Alicia - you think you know who my friends are? You don't know shit, so don't you _ever_ preach to _me_ about how fucking sad _my_ life is. They might be fucked up, they might play some twisted fucking games, but at least I know who they are, at least I know the rules. You think Johnson could ever find out about us and kept her goddamn mouth shut? You think Bell would have risked being expelled to fish a fucking stopper out of Pomfrey's cabinet if she knew I'd fucked you three ways to Sunday?

You want to call me a coward? Fine, I'm a fucking coward because I want to live - because I want _you_ to live. I'm a fucking coward because I'd rather die than see you dragged down with me. I'm a fucking coward because it'd be better for me to stand by and watch you get married to some fucking arselicking imbecile like _Carson goddamn Bishop _and watch you have half a dozen shitty little Bishop brats because it would mean you'd get to have some semblance of normalcy and safety and fucking _happiness _in your goddamn life.

I'll take that any day over having to hide you away for the rest of our lives, forcing you to watch while I send our kids off to some fucking orphanage in Russia or in Brazil - because that's what my people do, do you understand? And I can't fucking just let go of everything and everybody that I know, just like I would never ask that of you. So don't fucking judge me. I made a mistake and I'm sorry, and goddammit, I'm never sorry but I am, I really fucking am. I'm sorry I called Bishop a blood-traitor and I'm sorry I thought you'd fucked around with Graham. I'm sorry you have to sneak around your - your _boyfriend, _and if this is the end, then fine. This is the end. It had to come sometime. I really hope you'll be happy. So have a nice life, Alicia. You deserve it."

He looked at her once last time, pretending that she didn't have her face buried in her hands as she quietly sobbed. He stormed back towards the front stairs and grabbed his shoes. He'd spied the fireplace in the living room and quickly decided that it would be best if he Flooed home - having a run-in with Florrie or the rest of the Spinnets was the last thing he wanted right now. He would leave some money on the table as payment so that they couldn't quite accuse him of theft, on top of making their daughter cry, when Aurora and Alan Spinnet came back home.

Cassius walked past Alicia once again, his heart clenching painfully, gut churning horridly with every step. He felt like scum. He _was_ scum. She didn't even look up as his pant leg literally brushed against her side.

It had been a mistake coming here. But... but it was for the best. It was over now and things would soon settle back into place. They _had_ to. This could not go on.

And...

Oh god.

Merlin's fucking balls.

Had he actually said that he'd loved her?

He glanced back at her one last time, but her face was still buried in her palms, as her shoulders shook from the force of her quiet sobs. She was pathetic and he loved her.

He was pathetic.

The End.

He scooped a handful Floo powder out of the jar and lit a fire with the flick of his wand before tossing the powder in and shouting his new address for the second time that day: "Berkley House, 47 Bramwood Lane, London."

It was time to get wasted.

* * *

"Alicia, open the door, it's Sky."

Though her mother had pulled an _alohomora, _Alicia had shoved her desk behind the door so that nothing short of a blast could gain anybody access into her room unless she desired it. But hearing Skylar's voice made her feel guilty that she'd locked the poor girl out with Florrie and her harried, enraged parents. She'd heard her mother yelling at Florrie through the floorboards, and though she wanted to explain that it wasn't Florrie's fault, she hadn't dared venture out of her room just yet. But as Skylar continued to hammer on the door, Alicia opened it a crack out of her growing guilt. Skylar looked back at her with a strange expression on her face.

"You have to let me in. Your mum wants us out -

"_What_?"

She sent the desk back to its place with the flick of her wand and she opened the door so that Skylar could step in.

"What do you mean she wants you out?" Alicia exclaimed as Skylar hurriedly set about packing her things, which were jumbled on the floor amongst Alicia's belongings.

"She wants us out. As in back to France," said Skylar tonelessly without looking up.

"But why -

"Why do you think _why_?" Skylar snapped, standing up to stare expressionlessly at Alicia. "Obviously they're pissed my mum let you two up here unsupervised -

"But that wasn't her fault, she was trying to help -

"Well your mum thinks my mum is an idiot for letting a _Warrington_ into your house, and you know, as much as I think it's rude of her to kick us out in the middle of the night, I actually kind of agree. What the _fuck _were you thinking?"

Alicia slammed the door to her room and locked it, before staring helplessly back at her friend.

"You don't understand -

"Oh, I understand perfectly," said Skylar coldly, cutting her off. "You're shagging him. That much is obvious. I just never thought - well, a Slytherin. That's just low, even for me, and we all know I'm the slag around here -

"You're not a slag -

"Cut the crap, Alicia. Everybody thinks I'm a slag. My own mum thinks I'll turn into a proper whore for a career. But for chrissake... and you _know_ how many people in this neighbourhood are witches and wizards! God, all it takes is one of your cousins to say one thing to the wrong person - _oh, Alicia's dating this wanker named Cassius Warrington, yeah, real posh type _- and then what? And for fuck's sake... a _Warrington_! A goddamn _Warrington_! Don't you _know_ who his uncles were? Merlin, I don't even know the bloke but I can tell you he comes from one line of fucked up people, _sickos, all of them - _and for all you know he's just playing you so that when war breaks out he can kidnap you and sacrifice you to you-know-who or something equally disgusting and messed up -

"He wouldn't do that," said Alicia quietly.

"He wouldn't do that?" Skylar repeated indignantly. "Are you mad? Did you smoke a little too much back there? Have you even _heard_ of the Rosiers? I just spent an entire fucking semester learning about these people in History because _that's_ how fucked up they were. And do you know who they're related to on this side of the Channel? The Blacks, the Malfoys, the Lestranges, and oh, that's right, the _Warringtons_ through your little fuck-buddy's _mum_, and that's not even including all the other crazies they're related to in - in - in Albania or whatever -

"Look, Sky," said Alicia warily, "I know all this shit, alright? So if all you're going to do is yell at me about the obvious, then if you don't mind, do it in your head while you pack. Otherwise, you can come down with me and help me convince my parents that you ought to stay because it isn't fair and I haven't seen your or your mum in like two years, and my business with C - Warrington is my business so my parents can just fuck off." _  
_

Skylar scoffed scornfully.

"I'd like to hear you say fuck off to your parents," she said sarcastically.

Alicia rolled her eyes.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, well... well you look like shit."

"Good one, Sky."

* * *

"No, I want them out and that's final."

Alicia glared at her mum, who crossed her arms and returned the stare.

"Well that's just being stupid," Alicia replied. "Florrie's like your best friend and you're going to kick her out because she -

"Let a _Warrington_ into our house? Yes, yes I will. Not only did she allow your safety to be compromised -

"_What_?" Alicia shrieked. "My _safety_? Are you insane? What is this, the fifteenth century -

"That's enough, Alicia," said her father sharply.

"No, you two are mad -

"Alicia," said Florrie suddenly, "Don't talk like that to your parents -

"_You_ don't talk to her," said Aurora hotly, glaring at her former friend.

"No, _you_ don't talk to her like that," Alicia exclaimed. "How could you even be so rude? She watched the bar for you while you dragged dad out to see some stupid Jane Austen -

"That's enough young lady, I've just about had it with your tone," said her mother thunderously.

"Well - just _listen_ to yourselves! God, you make me sick. What do you think he was going to do? Tell me! Rob the house? Yeah, right. We could probably fit this place into his bathroom or something ridiculous. So what? You think he was going to _ra__pe_ me? _Kill_ me -

"Alicia!" said Florrie sharply.

"No, it's okay - that's what you're all thinking, isn't it? That he's some sort of deranged psychopath, that I'm just some stupid bint who prances around oblivious to the world - well it's not like that, okay? God, he's not even my goddamn _boyfriend_. We worked on a _project_ together, okay? We're just _friends_. FRIENDS. I get that's hard to believe, but I've _got_ an actual boyfriend, people, and you can ask gran all about it after the Debbie if you want proof because you all obviously think I'm a liar. And as strange as it may seem, not every Slytherin is a fucked up murderer waiting to happen. So _don't_ punish Florrie just because she treated him like a _normal person_. And you people wonder why I never bring friends around?"

"If he's just a friend than why did he disappear like that? Why are your cousins going on about -

"Oh my god, you're not seriously going to listen to a _word_ Angel says, are you?"

"Angel wouldn't lie to me -

"And I'm sure that's what Cassius told him so that he wouldn't get the shit beaten out of him. And he didn't just _disappear like that_ - I told him to leave because I just _knew_ this was the kind of crap you two would pull."

"Listen, Alicia - just stop, it's alright. Your parents are right, I should have kept you two downstairs if anything. It was my mistake and -

"And anything could have happened!" her father jumped in.

"No! That's just the point! That's what you keep saying but what? What could have happened? You don't trust _him_ or you don't trust _me_? You haven't even _met_ him. And for chrissake, take one look at Angel and Michael. Even Carlos - you think any of them are up to any good? I was probably more in danger hanging out with them in the street than I was for the whole twenty minutes I was up here with Cassius. You know what we did? We - _I_ ate some cheesecake and we talked, watched some telly and yeah, alright I'll admit it, we smoked a couple of fags. But that was it. He went home. The End. Then _you_ people came home and started shouting the roof down and insulting Florrie who hasn't done _anything, _and in front of Skylar too. If that isn't low, I don't know what is."

Alicia stopped and took a deep breath before crossing her arms and glaring at her parents.

"Is that it?"

"I've said my bit," Alicia retorted. "If you aren't going to apologize to Florrie and Skylar, then too bad for you. You're losing some of the coolest people in the world who love you even though you're acting like they're utter trash."

Her parents actually had the decency to look ashamed, and Alicia looked away to hide her smugness, though it was a failed attempt.

"Not so fast, young lady," said her mother sharply. "I'm sorry Florrie. Skylar. We treated you wrongly and Alicia's right, none of this is your fault. You were just trying to be helpful. If you don't ever want to talk to us again, I understand. I only hope we can get past this one day and continue being friends. But _you_ - you _knew_ your father and I would _not_ approve of your - your _friend_ paying you a little private visit and_ you_ should have explained that to Florrie. In fact, you should have just known that we wouldn't have approved of your _friend_ at all -

"Which is just _stupid_ because you don't even _know _him -

"Then invite him over," said her father suddenly.

All heads turned to stare at him.

"What?" said Alicia and Aurora simultaneously.

"Invite him over. If he's just a friend, then tell him to come over, since you're so adamant about pointing out that we've never met the bleeding fellow -

"You - you think I'd invite him over to meet you people after all of _this_?"

"Enough with the _you people, _Alicia, we're your parents. And if he's such a damned good friend of yours, that he's the first one to visit since you started school, then I think we ought to meet him, don't you? Honour the occasion with dinner, some wine."

"Some wine? So you can booze him up and get him to spill the beans on his entire life? Why don't I spare you the trouble and describe to you his breathing habit -

"That's enough sarcasm from you," said her mother sharply. "Your father is reaching out -

"Reaching out?" Alicia echoed. She glanced at Skylar and Florrie, who were quietly creeping up the stairs now that they were no longer involved in the situation. "You call this reaching out?"

"Well," said her father coolly as he grabbed himself a bottle of beer out of the fridge, "If he hasn't anything to hide - if _you _haven't anything to hide - then I think it would be a _lovely_ occasion for us to get to know your good friend, since you've been so keen on pointing out to us how we _can't judge him_ as we _don't even know him. _Hmm, how does Wednesday sound? Two days should be ample enough time for you to prepare some harebrained scheme to get yourself out of this mess - and while you're at it, might as well invite this _real_ boyfriend of yours over, whom - might I add - you've failed to mention until now. Hit two birds with one stone, no? What do you think, Aurora?"

"I think it's a wonderful idea," said her mother just as coolly, glaring at Alicia as Alan handed her a glass of wine.

"Well I think it's a terrible idea," Alicia replied. "And anyway, Carson's in Thailand -

"Only junkies go to Thailand -

"_With his grandparents_ for their _anniversary_ or something. There you go making judgements all over again. As usual."

"Fine," said her mother crossly. "And I suppose _Cassius_ is going to be off in Timbuktu by Wednesday morning -

"I'm not making it up!"

"Well then."

"Well then what? He's got a bleeding life, you know - I'm not going to force him to come here for some horrible dinner-slash-Spanish-Inquisition because my insane parents want to prove that he's a bleeding murderer-rapist and I'm sort of lying slag."

"But you'll ask him, won't you?" said her mother in an irritatingly calm voice, as though Alicia was the irrational one.

"Fine!" Alicia snarled.

"Well then," said Alan just as calmly as Aurora, "I'll set the table for six on Wednesday, then."

"Argh! You people are insane!"

* * *

"... so what are you going to do?" Skylar yawned after Alicia finished explaining how she and Cassius came to... be.

"I dunno," she mumbled irritably as she wiped mascara off her face. "How about _not_ invite him? I'll just tell them he's busy."

"Which will only make them think they're right."

"Yeah, because they're absolutely nutters! I mean, if he wanted to kill me, don't you think he would have done it by now?"

"Hey, don't ask me - I'm still on the fence about this whole thing. I mean... Wow. And he said he _loved_ you? Jesus, don't you think it sounds a bit like he's laying it on thick?"

Alicia sighed and chucked the dirty cotton ball into the rubbish bin.

"I don't bloody know -

"Well do _you _love him?"

Alicia flushed, and Skylar let out a high-pitched squeal.

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Oh my god, you're so fucked, you're in love with the nephew of a bunch of psychopath-murderer-rapist-death-eaters!"

"No need to sound so giddy about it," Alicia muttered dryly.

"Hey, it's either that or cry, right? And jesus, did I tell you? Mum started smoking again!"

"What?"

"Yeah," said Skylar, nodding her head vigorously, "Right after the two of you went upstairs, we saw her through the window! Lit one up right in the bar!"

"Wow... mum told me she hasn't smoked anything since, like, you were born!"

"Yeah, well I guess old habits die hard, right? Anyway, next time she busts me I'm going to call her out on it. She's _such_ a hypocrite. Seriously, it's like as soon as you pop out a kid, you become a gigantic... hypocrite. There needs to be another word for that, by the way. It must be hormonal."

"Tell me about it," Alicia snorted.

"So now what? You're just... never going to talk to him again? I thought you have all those classes together -

"We do. It'll be fine. It's not like he even existed before - before all this."

"Pfft, easier said than done. And you _love_ him! _Alicia and Cassius sitting in a tree -_

"Oh shut up," said Alicia. "And anyway, it'll be fine. I'm telling you. And you have to swear to me, you can't tell anybody about this. Like, nobody. If anybody finds out -

"Oh my god, Alicia, who's the Ravenclaw here? You think I'm stupid enough to go blabbing about this -

"_Ex_ Ravenclaw -

"Yeah, because I moved!"

"So? People change!"

"Not that much. But I think you should invite him over. Otherwise your parents are just going to be on your case forever and you'll die an old spinster -

"I think you have to be a virgin to qualify as a spinster," Alicia interrupted, and Skylar giggled.

"Which we've determined that you are not... hey, is he any good?"

"Fuck off!"

"Oh my god, he is, isn't he? Anyway, fine. You don't get to be a spinster, but you'll die alone and childless in a ramshackle cabin in the woods somewhere -

"Gee, thanks -

" - _dead of a broken heart_!"

"Oh, fuck off!"

"Hey, I'm just saying... for somebody who's convinced they're going to just drop the love of their life -

"He's not the bloody love of my life -

" - with the bat of an eye, you sure defended him pretty well out there! And your parents could _easily_ have been Inquisitors in another life or something."

Alicia rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, only because I was trying to keep mum from throwing you out! You think they would have let you and your mum stay if I let them think he's -

" - the nephew of a bunch of psychopath-murderer-rapist-death-eaters? Yeah, that probably wouldn't have gone over so well."

Alicia blinked.

"Wow, you really like saying that, don't you?"

"Has a nice ring to it, what can I say? Psychopath-murderer -

"_Anyway_, as I was saying, I highly doubt mum and dad would have let you two stay if I let them think he's like his uncles. God, isn't that weird? I just realized that our mums went to school with them."

Skylar wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah, that is weird. Like, they actually sat in class with all those -

"_Don't say it_!"

"- Psychopath-murderer-rapist-death-eaters! Imagine how messed up that is... like, killing somebody you played Quidditch with, or somebody who was your potion's partner, or your -

"Yeah, I get it. It's messed. All of my mum's friends are pretty much dead. Except for professor Lupin, but they don't even talk to each other. Too many bad memories I guess -

"Professor Lupin? No way. Your mum was friends with him?"

"Well what about your mum? My mum said your mum was a huge pothead -

Skylar burst out laughing.

"My mum? A pothead? Yeah right -

"No, really! And all her friends were blokes -

"Sure," said Skylar sarcastically. "My mum? Friends with a bunch of blokes? I don't think I've ever seen her hug a guy who wasn't your dad. I swear, if she didn't have me, I'd tell you she was a lesbian or something. And it's not like she's ugly or anything, she's always got loads of men trying to pick her up!"

Alicia raised an eyebrow.

"I thought the French were super racist or whatever."

"Yeah, they're pretty racist," Skylar admitted, "But it's weird... it's like racist in this I-don't-even-realize-I'm-being-racist kind of racist. They're like that about blood too... like they'll openly be pro-pure or however you want to put it, but they'll be friends with halfbloods or muggleborns at the same time. Anyway, you think men care about that kind of shit when it comes to getting laid? I mean, shit, look at you, shagging some pureblood progeny. Yeah, I guess for marriage and stuff they care about it more, but mum's always getting propositioned at work."

"That's just weird. God, men are such pricks. I hate them. Fuck men."

Skylar snorted.

"That's got to be the most quotable quote ever. But listen, you should just invite him over as _friends_. That way, you prove to your parents that you don't have shitty taste in friends and that he isn't deranged, thereby also proving to them that they had nothing to worry about when you two were up here screaming each other's ears off, and that way my mum's really in the clear. Plus, then when you go back to school, things won't be all weird. Cause you have to admit, if the next time you get to see him is at school - and that stupid ball doesn't count, you'll never be within ten feet of him without like fifty other people being all in your face - then how awkward would it be if the last thing you'd said to each other was... well, yeah."

"And how would it be _any_ less awkward, pray tell, to have him over for an Inquisition?"

"Hey, it's a sign of - of truce, no bad blood, that you guys both accept there will be nothing more between the two of you besides friendship -

"If even that."

"If even that. And anyway, I want to meet him. But yeah, it's still loads better than leaving everything hanging like it is now, right? And if he says no, then so what? You extended the olive branch and if he's busy or too pissed or too scared to accept, then whatever. That's the end of the story. Life moves on. _You_ move on. He can't hold you back forever, right?"

"Right..."

"Oh Alicia, trust you to fall in love with the nephew of some-

"Skylar!"

"_Psychopath-murderer-rapist-death-eaters_!"

"... you have problems, you know that?"

"Bonne nuit Alicia."

"G'nite Skylar."

* * *

Cassius awoke to water being dumped on his face, and he sat up in bed, still half asleep, still three-quarters drunk, and absolutely pissed off.

"What the _fuck_ -

"Get up, boy -

He forced his eyes open and found himself staring into the murky depths of his father's livid eyes.

"Father -

"Get. Up. NOW."

Cassius scrambled out of bed and glanced at his watch. It was half-past-seven. Shit. An hour-and-a-half late for work. And he was still dressed in yesterday's clothes, and his father was here - HERE.

"Don't just stand there like an imbecile! Get dressed!"

"Yes sir."

"Look at you, sleeping in your shoes - you're worthless. For fuck's sake, are you drunk?"

"No sir -

"Look at me when I speak to you, and don't you dare lie to me," his father hissed, grabbing him by the arm. Cassius froze and stared into his father's eyes, instantly putting up walls in case his father tried to pull a _legillimens_ on him.

"You disgust me," he snapped. "I've given you the opportunity of a lifetime, fed you, housed you, clothed you - and this is how you repay me? How you repay the family? You think I can die in peace knowing that everything the Warringtons have worked for are going to end up in your useless hands? I should have sent you to Drumstrang when I still had the chance. You are an embarrassment to this family. Because of your _absenteeism_ I had to take time off work to come and fetch your sorry arse. Do you have any idea how bad it looks? We run a _law firm, _boy - our livelihood _depends_ on how we present ourselves. And do you think a _drunk _makes for a good representative? Do you? Get your fucking clothes on and do something about those eyes. If you're not at the office in ten minutes, clean and sober, you start praying to god that I don't find you, do you understand me boy?"

"Yes father."

His father left the room, slamming the door behind him without another word.

"_Silencio_."

Cassius hurled the empty pitcher of water on his bed-side table against the door and watched in satisfaction as it shattered into a million little pieces.

"FUCK YOU TOO ASSHOLE!"

* * *

"Wow, you look like shit, mate."

"Fuck off."

"Look, is this about yesterday?" Montague asked as he dusted Floo Powder off his robes. "Because you know I only did it to prove a point -

"Graham," said Cassius coldly, "You need to shut your mouth before I make you. I've had it with your fucking games, alright? I'm a big boy now so keep your goddamn nose out of my business for just once in your fucking life before I do something I regret."

"Like what?" said Montague sarcastically. "Look at you, all worked up over what? Some _bitch_! No, really, let me finish. Why do you think I would fuck around like that? Huh? Alright, I hate her, I'm not going to lie - she's a stuck-up little bitch and you know it just as well as I do. But you think I'd go out of my way to fuck with her just because I don't like the girl? I did it for _you_! You need to wake the fuck up and see the light, mate - this thing you have going with her, it isn't going _anywhere_, do you understand? I mean, _look_ at yourself! You're a goddamn mess, you look like you just rolled out of some filthy pub in Knockturn! You _smell _like you rolled out of some filthy pub in Knockturn. My bloody house elf looks better than you do right now. This isn't you, mate! Merlin, you realize your _father_ actually _ordered_ me to get your arse moving? She's just fucked you all up and I hate to say it, but you've changed. And I don't think I need to spell it out for you, but this has got to be the worst time _ever_ besides the First War for you to have gotten involved with - with the Other Side, can't you see that? So fine, you want to drop all your friends for little-miss-Gryffinbitch? You go right ahead and do that, but you just see if she'll take you in with open arms. I bloody _dare _you to announce to all of her goddamn friends what you two have been up to and see if they'll pat you on the back and welcome you to the club. They'll _kill_ you -

"Graham," Cassius sighed as he put out his cigarette. "Just shut up, alright? It's over. So just... stop. My head's pounding enough as it is."

"... Well. Circe, mate, why didn't you say so? It's only about time - "

"Graham. Shut up."

"Does this mean we're still friends?"

"Graham. _Shut. Up_."

* * *

**What do you guys think? Your comments all influence how this story plays out so REVIEW and be honest! **

**XOXO **


	16. Chapter 16

**Okay, another loaded chapter for y'all to take in. I know, not a lot of Cassius-Alicia action, but they're on the holidays! **

**Good news - Yule's coming up around the corner (maybe next chapter even) so there you go, a little enticement for you to leave reviews. **

**Stromsten: Read this chapter, I think you'll find out the answer to your musings... **

**Jadely31: I'm definitely working on a resolution. It definitely depends on how you guys feel about the characters and the story arc. I actually get a lot of inspiration from your comments because sometimes you'll catch things, either about the characters or the story, that I didn't even see as I was writing lol **

**Guest: You're right on the dot about Florrie's view on Cassius and Alicia. Montague is a Slytherin to the core. Looking out for Cassius is part of his self-interest because they're friends and even selfish people have friends. If he can save his own neck and Cassius' too, he'll do whatever he can to make sure all goes in their favour. But obviously if it means risking his own life, even for Cassius, then that'd be a different story. As for the terminology, I'm actually pleased and astonished that you caught onto that. I was having a debate with myself about whether or not 'god' and other religious terms of the sort would be used by magical folk, but then I realized they do celebrate Christmas in the books, and that the head of Hufflepuff is the Fat Friar. So even if the wizarding world is secularized, much like our world tends to be today, I sort of assumed that words like god and merlin could be used interchangeably in conversation without a religious connotation. As for Flint's non-reaction, I think my reasoning at the time was that he's graduated from Hogwarts, and house lines aren't so marked in the outside world. I mean, it's not like for instance in playing quidditch, he's only playing with pureblood Slytherins - he's teammates with muggle-borns, ****halfbloods and all sorts of people from all over the place. So since leaving school, I think he isn't as shocked by seeing something like Montague and Alicia. So while he made the connection, he didn't make such a big deal about it. I think he was perhaps more amused and surprised than offended - just like in the real world, I don't think as a man he sees much of a problem with Alicia being objectified as a sexual being, but obviously as Skylar mentioned in the previous chapter, "I guess for marriage and stuff they care about [the blood issue] more". **

**Etoile Black: Cassius' dad does suck. Get a load of his mother here... I'm glad you're so drawn in by the dialogue!**

**Chkale: Alicia is naive, you're right - she's really just a teenager seeing things as a normal teen would. Cassius, on the other hand, like a lot of his housemates, is sort of in a strange place between being just a teen and being grown up with all the pressures put on them by their parents and their Society. **

**Sibel88: I have no idea how long this story is going to last. To be honest, I'm really surprised myself at it's length so far. I mean, my inspiration from this really came from** Fighter **which is only a two-shot, and so I was sort of only going to write a shortish story but the characters have really been writing themselves and there's just so much to say. So I really don't know. But I'll keep writing as long as you guys keep reviewing! **

**ENJOY!**

* * *

"Mother."

"Cassius. Qu'est-ce que tu fais là?" _What are you doing here?__  
_

Cassius stood stiffly in the doorway of the sitting room as his mother swept across the sitting room, her large dark, heavily-lidded eyes glittering distantly at him from the other side of the room. She moved like a spider, her long, thin limbs moving purposefully, each motion eerily synchronized, and when she came to a halt in front of him, she cocked her head to the side as if to inspect him.

"You've been drinking," she said in English.

"As have you."

"_Touché_," she replied, putting on a false anglophone accent, tilting her glass of wine at him. "_Santé._" (_To your health - cheers_).

"Santé," Cassius murmured dryly.

"What brings you to this neck of the woods, then? You're not due to inherit for another... six months."

Cassius blinked. _Inherit? _Of course. He'd be graduating in six months. His mother's eyes flashed suspiciously.

"Forgot that little detail, did you? Well you're certainly not here to visit me. Did your father send you? Odious man. I wrote to him you know? Told him I would be down for the Ball, though I suppose he wanted you to come down here in person to make sure I wasn't dead yet?" She laughed nastily and offered him her glass. He shook his head, distastefully eying the lipstick stains on the rim. "Too bad. It was from Alexandre's funeral, just found an entire crate of it hidden away in the wine cellar. We named you after him, you know?"

"Yes, I know," Cassius replied. _You only tell me every time I see you._

"Well, as you can see, I'm alive and well. You can tell your father he can keep on praying."

"Duly noted," he muttered as he glanced around at the family tree that was spread across the four walls of the room.

Cassius walked over to the wall at the opposite end of the room, where his mother had been standing when he'd opened the door.

Ah. And there he was, dear old Uncle Evan, his name elegantly engraved into the wall in between his mother's and Uncle Roland.

Cassius watched as his mother refilled her glass from the bottle resting on the table.

"Do you want some?"

"You already asked."

"Did I? It's quite good, you know - I found an entire case of it from Alexandre's funeral -

"You know what?" Cassius interrupted, grabbing the glass and the bottle from his mother, "I'll take some."

_And you've bloody well had enough_.

**_And haven't you_?**

_Fuck off._

"There he is," said her mother, haphazardly waving her wand in the direction of the wall.

Cassius glanced back at the wall. Uncle Alex, first in line, first to be buried, followed by Uncle Felix.

"And there you are," his mother continued, "_Cassius_ Alexandre Warrington. _That_ was your father's choice."

"I'm rather partial to my name, thanks."

"Though in hindsight, I ought to have named you after Evan instead. You look just like him, did I ever tell you that?"

"Every time," Cassius muttered to himself as he cast another sidelong glance at the wall. Louder he said, "You know, now that I think about it, you've never shown me any pictures of him -

"Of who?"

"Of _uncle_ Evan," he replied through gritted teeth."You're always telling me how I look just like him but I've never seen a picture - or, say, a portrait even." _  
_

He waited for his mother to take the bait, but instead her eyes took on a bitter expression

"Evan hated pictures. He used to say _why in the hell would I want to be remembered by posteriority as some gangly pimple-faced teenager_?"

"Well what about a portrait?" he asked urgently. "Didn't you all have portraits done after graduation?"

"Oh, not Evan - well, he always was mother's favourite. He never even had acne, not like I did. But she let him put it off - took three years to convince him to get it done, just before that disgusting muggle-lover Moody went and blew him to bits. _I_ had to get mine done of course, acne and all, and no amount of bubertuber puss -

"Uncle Evan's portrait, mother, where is it?"

"_Where_ is it?"

His mother screwed up her face in concentration, her elegantly arched eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Well, I suppose it's at his house. He had it done just in time for Yule, but we never did have the time to hang it up at the Big House. He only died a few days later, you know? On New Year's, of all days. Those Order bastards were always cruel like that, attacking on the holidays."

Cassius flinched when his mother suddenly grasped his arm, her nails digging into his skin in an all-too familiar manner.

"You should have killed him, you know," she said, her dark eyes wide and glassy. "He was your teacher for an entire year -

Cassius wrenched his arm out of her grasp and stepped back.

"I didn't _take_ Defence last year," he spat. "And anyway, it wasn't actually Mad-Eye, it was Crouch Jr. -

He didn't even want to get into the logistical impossibilities of killing a professor inside of Hogwarts. In any case, his mother had stopped listening. She'd trailed back over to the wall and was now tracing Marielle's name with the tip of her wand, ranting about blood-traitors like Moody and "weak halfblood-fucking sons of bitches" like his father.

Where was Evan's house?

Which one was Evan's house?

Evan had been the last to die, which meant he'd inherited a third of the estates, his mother the other third. Cassius had been a year-old, born just after Felix had been killed, leaving him with the remaining third. So when Evan had died, he'd had... what? There was the Big House in the north, the country house in Aix, the Bordeaux townhouse, the Paris townhouse, the mistress' townhouse in Paris and the Marseille townhouse.

It had to be the Bordeaux house... Evan had been in possession of the Big House and the Bordeaux house after Felix died, and his mother had said they'd never had the time to move the portrait to the Big House. New Year's Eve celebration - and then funeral - arrangements had taken precedence no doubt.

So. To the Bordeaux house it was.

* * *

"I'm sorry Miss _Spinnet_," the auburn-haired receptionist repeated for the fourth time, "But he isn't available today and I am not at liberty to disclose his location. Might I suggest you send him an owl like normal people - _  
_

"You don't understand, I need to write this paper as soon as possible and he has my book -

"So you've said a thousand times," the receptionist snapped heatedly. "But this is a _law firm_, not a library, and if you do not leave out of your own accord, then I'm afraid I'm going to have to call security -

"Fine," Alicia muttered, turning pink at the prospect of being escorted out of the Warrington firm by a couple of overzealous security guards. "Thanks for nothing - oomph!"

"Well, well, we seem to have a habit of running into each other in unexpected places, Spinnet," Montague drawled as Alicia pushed herself off of him in disgust. "Back for more, are you? I'm afraid I'll have to pencil you in -

"Piss off, Montague -

"Warrington isn't in," he said in a low voice, his hand clamping down on her shoulder and steering her out of the building by force. "And I suggest you stop stalking him -

"Stalking him! _He_ came to _my _house -

"Shut up, Spinet," Montague replied curtly as he shoved her into the crowd of Diagon Alley shoppers. "You have some _fucking nerve_ showing up at his father's office. Merlin's balls, I knew you were stupid but not that stupid! Do you have any idea - forget it. You just stay away from him, do you understand? And I'm fucking serious. You've done enough damage. He's been on a drinking binge for fucking days -

"And who's fault is that?" she snapped. "_You're_ the one who has nerve, trying to push this all off on me! _I _wasn't the one who made it look like -

"Shut up and keep walking," Montague hissed, still walking discreetly behind her as the weaved in and out of the crowd. "Turn here."

Alicia stumbled forward into a little side alley as Montague shoved her to the right.

"I'm not even going to ask what you were doing at the Firm but let me make it clear to you how fucking stupid of an idea that was. If you _ever_ pull a stunt like that again, I'll make your life a living hell do you understand? Cassius was my mate before he was ever your - your twisted fucking game -

"_My_ twisted fucking game? What are you, high -

"Shut. Up. You have no idea what you've done, you stupid bitch. He fancies himself to be in _love_ with you - with _you_! And you keep stringing him along like he's some sort of dog. I don't think he's be in sober in days. You send him packing one day, and then you think you can just crook your finger at him so he can come running the next? Shut your mouth, Spinnet, it's unattractive. You leave him the fuck alone. Don't look at him, don't talk to him, don't write to him. Don't so much as breathe in his direction, or I'll tell your _boyfriend_ everything. I'll tell your _friends_ everything. And before you laugh and tell me I'll just be screwing Cass over too, you just think it over for a minute. Because you have everything to lose, and he has nothing. His father might scuff him up for being indiscreet, people might talk shit for a bit, but shagging half-bloods isn't a crime as long as that's all it is. _Yet_. So unless you want to get yourself killed - or worse - back the fuck off. Hell, you're chummy with Saint Potter. I don't think I need to tell you twice that war's coming. And you and Cass, not matter how far up your arse he's shoved his dick, are not on the same sides. So Fuck. Off. "

And with that, she punched him in the face, satisfaction surging through her veins as her knuckles came into contact with his nose and a crack resonated in her ears.

"That was for the other day you sonofabitch. Keep your crooked nose out of other people's business."

She melted back into the crowd as Montague's howl of pain disappeared into the distance.

* * *

It occurred to Cassius with a sudden surprise as he stepped into the Bordeaux townhouse that if his suspicions were correct, the house would no longer be part of his inheritance package. He found himself to be strangely ambivalent about this change in fortune as he sauntered down the corridor in search of his uncle's portrait.

The interior of the house had definitely been redecorated since his uncle had last wandered through its rooms, much as he did now. Cassius recognized some of the same colour schemes as in the Paris house. When was the last time he'd been here? Not in years... he had a vague recollection of standing on the balcony and throwing bits of paper down at the passing muggles, and laughing whenever they looked up. But the house was unplottable. The only thing the muggles could see was a windowless wall.

For a second, he considered asking one of the other portraits in the house where his uncle was located, but he realized that anything he said could easily be reported back to one of his parents if somebody decided to be nosy or chatty, which portraits were known to be.

Ah magic, where would he be without it?

He fished his wand out of his pocket and placed it on his palm.

"_Point me_."

Cassius followed the wand's directions until he found himself standing in front of a bookcase in the library. He rolled his eyes in disbelief. Such a cliché_. __  
_

He pushed the bookcase forward and just as he expected, it swung open to reveal a little office with a long-unused fireplace, a large wooden desk and more bookshelves. Even the office hadn't escaped his mother's hands - all the books had been colour-coordinated by size (and obviously not alphabetically), and the curtains were a sheer white. The walls had been painted an ivory-blue. And in the centre of the back wall was a large painting of his uncle Evan seated behind his desk, a portrait of this very office, staring haughtily down at him like an eerie mirror's reflection.

Cassius pushed the bookcase back in place and turned back. His uncle continued to stare silently at him, his cool expression unchanged. If Cassius hadn't known better, he would have thought it a muggle portrait.

"I have some questions to ask you," he finally ventured.

"What, no introduction, _nephew_?" the portrait replied, with a mocking twist his lips.

"You know who I am," Cassius answered cooly, "And I know who you are. What's an introduction between family members?"

"_Brusque_. You sound like your father."

Cassius stiffened, and his uncle smirked.

"Don't like that, do you?"

"I came here to ask _you_ questions, not the other way around."

"And I can choose not to answer them," said the portrait just as coolly. Cassius watched silently as his uncle made himself comfortable, leaning back against his chair, hands crossed behind his head. It was strange to realize that as much as he thought of his uncle as his mother's age in his head, this portrait was a painting of a young man - only three years older than him, really. His mannerisms betrayed his youth. Cassius was almost disappointed that their conversation would not be as formal and as stilted as the ones he had with his father. This was almost more like talking with one of his schoolmates.

Well. He could work with that.

"I want to know about Florrie," said Cassius abruptly, favouring his direct approach rather than adopting Montague's style of beating around the bush, or the shut-up-and-listen tactic he employed with his father. His uncle froze - only for a split second, but Cassius recognized it and knew he'd hit the nail on its head. "I met her. And her daughter." _  
_

"And what is it that you think I know about these people?"

He was fishing. Didn't want to give away more than he had to.

"She went to school with you," said Cassius. "You must have taken Herbology together. She said you used to drink and smoke behind the greenhouses when you thought nobody was looking."

"Maybe. I took Herbology with a lot of mudbloods. They tend to be a nosy lot, what can I say?"

"You refer to them all by their first names? It's interesting, see, because when I met her, I thought she was going to have an aneurysm. And then she called me _Evan_. Which normally I would have brushed off, except I know for a fact that she's... well, a mudblood. And then I met her daughter. Her name's Skylar and I believe she's... well, sixteen sounds about right."

"I don't know anything about that," said Evan sharply. And while he was still leaning back against his chair, his eyes were flashing dangerously and Cassius had no doubt that this was a man who in real life had the capacity to kill.

"Well," said Cassius. "It had to have happened right about the time this portrait was commissioned."

"It wasn't commissioned," his uncle spat. "I painted it myself."

"An artist and a killer. How charming. Well, if you really don't know anything about Florence Kim or her daughter, then I have nothing more to say to you. I was just concerned about my inheritance is all, seeing as to how if you _did_ have a bastard running around... Well. If you're lying, I'll find out when she comes of age anyhow. She'll show up on half the family trees in Britain as the last direct descendent to the Rosier line besides mother, and who knows what might happen then? Mother hasn't exactly been in a stable state of mind since Marielle died... though I expect you'll know all about that."

"Oh, I was fucking Florence, don't you worry your head about that." his uncle hissed, eyes flashing coldly. "But you don't honestly believe I was stupid enough to leave her without protection, do you?"

"You're dead."

"I am," his uncle replied as he walked around his desk. "But this isn't."

Cassius watched as his uncle removed his robes and unbuttoned his shirt before tapping his wand against his side... and there, amongst all the scars, appeared the Rosier family crest, the intensity of the colours a sharp contrast against the pale white of his skin.

Blood magic.

"You touch her or the girl - well, I'm sure they teach you about these things in school. And this one right here... this is a little creation of my own. You let your mother know that once Skylar - did you say her name was? - starts showing up on the family trees. Céleste was always a smart girl. Hopefully she hasn't drunk herself stupid enough to test me."

Suddenly, the bookshelf swung itself open with a loud BANG and Cassius whirled around in surprise.

"I'll see you soon, nephew," said his uncle mockingly, seated once again, his dark eyes glittering with promise as the lines of his tattoo faded once more into his flesh. "I have all the time in the world."

* * *

"He isn't coming."

"Of course he isn't. Alan, pass the salt, you forgot to add it."

"That's it?" Alicia demanded incredulously as her mother stirred the stew vigorously while salt poured itself into the pot.

"What's it? We weren't expecting him to come, you know. Just a touch more, now - that's it, _stop_." The salt shaker dropped itself onto the table with a light thud.

"Seriously, mum, you threw a _fit_ over him the other day -

"And you're the one who kept insisting we'd never met him! But come on, sweetheart, you can't honestly tell me you actually thought your... friend would accept your invitation, did you?"

Alicia glared at her mother, crossing her arms in irritation.

"Well if he'd actually received my invitation, then maybe he would have said yes!"

"Oh? Did he go to Timbuktu after all, then?" Aurora asked mildly. "Alan, the pepper please. My god, were you cooking blind?"

"Footy's on -

"Of course it is," her mother snorted.

"Mum -

"Not now, Alicia - anyway, you still have... twenty minutes until dinner to get a hold of him, you know."

"You're making fun of me."

"One more shake now. What's that? Making fun of you? _Stop!_ Dammit, Alicia, go bother your father - look what you made me do. How am I going to get all this pepper out?"

"You're a witch, mum, figure it out," Alicia replied nastily before stalking away.

"What's the matter with her?" Alan asked as Alicia stomped up the stairs.

"The boy can't make it. He's in Timbuktu."

"Good riddance. Not that it's a big surprise, mind you."

"I can still hear you people!"

"Good! Next time don't invite strange boys over without our permission!"

"ARGH! You people drive me crazy!"

* * *

"Bloody owls, I don't know why you lot can't use the post like regular people - less of a hassle, I say!" Alan grumbled as he got up from the table to open the kitchen window so the wet, irate owl tapping at the glass could enter the house. He tried to take the letter from the owl, but the bird hooted indignantly and flew over him and instead dropped its letter on top of Florrie's heaping pile of shepherd's pie. "For chrissake, look at this mess!"

"Oh Alan, they're just a few feathers," said Aurora, rolling her eyes as she flicked her wand, banishing the wet feathers.

"Easy for you to say - you have magic."

"And you have me, so there we have it. Who's it from, Flor?"

Alicia peered curiously across the table, but her mother pinched her on the thigh.

"Ouch!"

"Don't be so nosy!"

Alicia stared at her mother blankly.

"Really, mum? Weren't you the one who just asked -

"Asking and peeking are two different things."

"It's just some work stuff," said Florrie lightly, though Alicia noticed suspiciously that she hadn't even read the letter - only opened it and shoved it hastily into her pocket.

"Yeah, right," Skylar snorted. "I bet it's from whats-his-name, the balding ginger with the beady eyes who works in accidental-magic-reversal. _Bertrand_."

Florrie looked up as Aurora squealed in excitement.

"Er, yes," she said, "Yes, it is."

"Go on then, give it here!" said Aurora.

"Oh, er, it's in French actually -

"Nothing a quick translation charm can't fix -

"Oh leave the girl alone," said Alan, interrupting his wife, "If she wants to carry on a torrid affair, that's her business. Isn't that right, Flor?" he said with a wink.

"That's just gross," Skylar muttered.

"Oi, your mum has the right to have some fun now that you're all grown!" said Alicia. "She's still young!"

"Yeah, you wouldn't be saying that if you met good 'ol Bertie," said Skylar with a grimace.

"So!" said Florence loudly. "How about the Tutshill Tornados then?"

"Terrible," Alan barked, for he'd become something of a Quidditch guru since meeting Aurora. "Don't tell me you support them just because they've bought out the best players in the bloody league!"

* * *

Cassius tapped his foot irritably as the busty waitress came by a third time to see if he wanted anything, but he dismissed her with a curt head shake. He had no money - no muggle money, that is. He should have known better than to have chosen a muggle pub, but he didn't want to risk being seen by anybody who might know him.

Half past eight became nine, and just as he was ready to leave, the door swung open and Florrie hurried into the warmth of the pub. Cassius nodded discreetly in her direction.

"I haven't any muggle money," he said as soon as she sat down.

She raised her eyebrow, unimpressed.

"I didn't come here for drinks," she said, helping herself to his pack of cigarettes. "Whatever it is you have to say, say it quick. I have to get back soon - I told them I was meeting a friend."

"And not your nephew?"

She coughed wildly as she took her first drag, and stopped the passing waitress.

"Double Jamieson."

"Anything for... your friend?" asked the waitress, looking at Cassius with a bemused expression on her face. Florrie flushed at the implication behind the word 'friend'.

"Nephew," she said in a strangled voice. "He'll have a -

"Firewhiskey, neat."

The waitress gave him a strange look.

"You mean a Prairie Fire?"

Cassius glanced at Florrie, who shook her head wildly.

"Just - two doubles. And that'll be all, thanks."

The waitress nodded and walked away. They sat in silence, staring at each other until she returned a minute later with the two drinks. Cassius watched as Florrie knocked hers back, then followed suit.

Not bad. Not Ogden's, but not bad. For a muggle drink, anyhow.

Merlin's balls. Not bad? _Not bad?_ Here he was, sitting in a muggle bar, drinking muggle drinks, sitting with a muggleborn - his muggleborn _aunt_ of all people - and he was saying _not bad__. _

Could there be anything possibly worse at this moment?

"So," said Florrie stiffly after another long, awkward silence. "What are you going to do?"

Cassius frowned. That hadn't been the question he was expecting. What was he going to do? Nothing. What was there to do? He couldn't do anything about it. If Skylar was his cousin, then everybody would know soon enough. If she truly was the last Rosier descendent, then bastard or not, she would show up on the family tree when she turned seventeen. And she would inherit, along with her father's name, his third of the Rosier properties. So what could he do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing - _he_ was a Warrington. His stake was weaker than Skylar's. Only his mother rivalled her, and when his mother died, Skylar would truly be the last Rosier.

"I want to know about the Mark," he said at last, and Florrie looked back at him in surprise.

"How do you know about that?" she said slowly, suspiciously.

Should he tell her? There was no telling how she might take it.

"How do you know about that?" she repeated, more firmly this time, her voice rising in pitch, eyes flaring open in fear.

"Tell me about the Mark. He marked you, didn't he? I know he did so don't lie to me."

"It's on my back," she acquiesced.

"I don't need to see it," he said. _I've already seen it_. "I want to know about it. What did he do? _Why_ did he do it -

"Why?" Florrie demanded. "Why's it so important to you -

"I don't think I need to even begin to get into how fucked up all of this is," said Cassius coolly. "But if Skylar is who I think she is, then, you need to tell me as much as possible about that mark."

"Are you threatening my daughter?" said Florrie in a dark voice.

"I'm not," Cassius replied irritably, "But somebody else might."

"Nobody else knows! I don't know how you found out about that mark -

"Everybody will know when she comes of age. You don't understand how it works. Unless one of my uncles had another pureblooded bastard who comes of age before Skylar does, then she's the last of the line. There are no other Rosiers - no legitimate ones, anyhow. And these families, these estates - they were designed to survive. So if it means legitimizing some bastard for the family's survival - don't look at me like that, for legality's sake, that's what she is - then that's what it takes. Which means when she comes of age, there is a ninety-nine percent chance that she'll show up on half the family trees across the country and on the continent as the last surviving heir to the Rosier name and estates, which means everyone will know that my uncle and you - well, did the nasty. Which _also_ means that my mother, the other - and current - last heir will not be pleased."

Florrie's face went white, and Cassius crossed his arms.

"So. The Mark. I need to know everything."

"It's everything," said Florrie in a stiff voice.

"What do you mean it's everything?"

"I mean," she said, her voice taking on a hysterical undertone, "That it's everything. It's the Trinity. Or the Quadrinity, I should say."

Blood. Sex. Life (or Death, to be more specific). The Trinity of blood magic.

"What do you mean Quadrinity?"

"Skylar," said Florrie. "Skylar is Life. He - well, he's Death. Obviously. The rest, well that's just self-explanatory. I should have known. He was always too fucking clever for his own good... It just wasn't enough for him to _die_. He had to - to leave something behind."

"Skylar."

"Skylar," Florrie confirmed. "I was stupid. He said, what's the big deal? It's for your protection -

"Why did you need protection?"

Florrie glanced at him, a terrible look on her face.

"You know what happened to St. Mungo's the last time."

He did. It had been taken over, shuttered to non pure-bloods.

"I was studying to be a Healer at the time, before they closed it, which happened a little bit after he died. Well _he_ knew it was going to happen - that they were going to take over the Hospital, I mean. And he knew they were starting to target Healers, Apprentices - anybody who could help... help my side win. He said he couldn't do anything to take me off the list of targets, there was no way. But there was another way."

"Blood magic."

"Right. Blood magic. He said all he would do was put an untouchable on me so I couldn't be... tortured. Or raped. He said it was an old family curse, tried and proven, no side effects or anything and he could always reverse it. So I said yes. I was stupid and scared and a lot of my colleagues were already disappearing. It was a bad time. So I let him do it. He cast the curse, we shagged as usual, did the whole blood exchange thing, baddaboom baddabing - I was untouchable."

"How do you know it worked?"

She looked at him again as though he were an idiot.

"Well for one thing, it bloody hurt like hell, although that should have been the first tip off. I mean, it hurt like hell. Like a cruciatus - and I've been on the receiving end of that."

Cassius raised an eyebrow.

"Got hit while in Diagon Alley as I was leaving the bank, right after graduation. There'd been a raid - a lot of people were withdrawing their funds around that time because the was was really starting to get heavy then. So they staged an attack and I got hit. I don't know if he was there that day, he never told me, but later when I saw him he threw a fit over it. If I'm not mistaken, Amerie Clemente disappeared soon after that. He never told me what he did to her."

"How romantic."

"Quite. Well anyway, the branding was like a cruciatus, but almost worse in a way because with the cruciatus, it's your entire body. With this, it was like all that pain was just concentrated right on my back. I thought I was being stripped in side out and all kinds of hell I can't even describe. Anyway, it was that bad. And it's never bad unless the curse is strong. But I didn't figure it out. I was just - like I said. Naive. Scared. But I knew it did what he said it would - somebody tried to get a little... fresh with me one night when I was walking home and... it wasn't pretty. Second tip off. Third tip off - nobody from the Ministry came swooping down on me for illegal and dangerous magic use on a muggle, not that I did it voluntarily or anything - but regardless, the whole thing just flew under the radar. Fourth tip off - when I saw him again, he just knew - I didn't say a word and he just knew something had happened. These are all things I thought of over the years, mind you. At the time, I was just glad I'd let him do it, didn't think twice about it. And then... well, and then he died. And I felt something in me just... I can't even explain it. You know how people say 'a part of me died with him' or whatever garbage when they're mourning? Well I'm not even kidding. It was literally like a part of me died for a split second, like my heart actually physically stopped. And when I read it in the paper what had happened the next day, I knew I was right. And the crest, that second my heart stopped, the crest burned worse than when I got it in the first place. Just for that split second. And I realized right then that there was no reversal. I was cursed. For life. By dying, he sealed the Trinity and left behind that crest as a goddamn chastity belt from beyond the grave. The last man who touched me was your uncle, and you have no idea what kind of pains I've had to go through over the last sixteen years to make sure that nobody touches me in case what happened to that muggle sonofabitch happens again. I've managed to subdue it so that people don't go into fits of madness and die left, right and centre every time they shake my hand and think I have a pretty face, but... well. Like I said. He always was too damned clever for his own good."

"Fits of madness?"

"That's what happened when he grabbed me. I was walking, not paying attention, feeling safe because I was in muggle London, but the thing you forget sometimes is that muggles can be dangerous too. Well he grabbed me from behind and the next thing I knew he was just on the floor, writhing, screaming but without making a sound, literally clawing at his own face. I had to call the police - the muggle aurors, I mean, because he was trying to dig out his own eyes. Well by the time they arrived, he'd already done it and later I found out he died on the way to the hospital - his heart just gave out."

"Circe. And if I were to touch you -

"Unless you have designs to murder me or hurt me in any way, you should be fine," said Florrie before ordering another round of drinks from the waitress. "Evan was always a tad... protective. Jealous. If he couldn't have me, then nobody else could either."

"And what happened when Skylar was born?"

Florrie gave him a tepid smile.

"Well that's the funny thing, isn't it. Absolutely nothing. I felt nothing - no burn, no heart stopping - nothing. But I was... am. I _am_ connected to her. I can sense her, even if it isn't reciprocal. I know when she's angry, when she's happy, when she's scared, even if she's three countries away. It's always there, just bubbling under the surface, but I can tune in if I think about it. I suppose that's how he always knew whenever something was up - he was connected to me like I'm connected to Skylar."

"But she can't read you and -

"I couldn't read him."

And here they were at last, at the most important part of all.

"Does Skylar have the mark too?"

Florrie scoffed.

"No. That girl is promiscuous enough for the both of us unfortunately. If Evan were alive, he'd probably string her up by her toes. But... when she was small - just a little girl, I doubt she even remembers this - somebody had tried..." Florrie's face went white with anger. "Somebody had tried to take advantage of her. Well when I came to pick her up from the sitter's because I felt something was off - the entire Spinnet clan had gone to South America for a couple weeks so I was watching the bar at the time - there were muggle aurors all around. The sitter's son had died. They dismissed it as a psychotic episode followed by a heart attack because when they did the autopsy, that's what had apparently happened, just like the muggle who'd tried to do the same to me in the street. And they'd found drugs in his system anyway. But I knew. When they asked Skylar all those questions and she told them what he'd tried to do, they said it was karmic retribution - a sick pedophile getting what he deserved before he could hurt an innocent little girl. But I knew. That wasn't karmic retribution. That was Evan, Evan and his goddamn cleverness, and despite all of that, he couldn't even save himself.

But I think in a way he just wanted to go. There was nothing for him in this world, not me or his even his own goddamn daughter. He died that day. The bastard. Came over for a last shag before going off to chase the good guys, and I know he knew that was going to be it. I think I knew it in my heart too. Fucking arsehole, he always had this twisted way of being romantic. But that was it. He went out with a bang, just as I always knew he would because let's be honest, even if he did make it out alive, we could never be together and we both knew it. He had Azkaban waiting for him if you-know-who's side lost, and I had a lifetime of hiding ahead of me if Harry Potter hadn't come along. Skylar wouldn't have even been a possibility. God, I can't even imagine it. Now that I think about it, the only way for me to have a child in this world with him was through his death. The sonofabitch. He knew it all along."

Cassius swallowed uncomfortably as Florrie suddenly buried her face into her hands and quietly cried, another broken woman left behind by the ravages of war. He'd seen that look on his mother's face when she spoke about her brothers, about Marielle, and he'd seen in countless other faces over the years whenever a dead relative was mentioned or some past event brought up in conversation. And it was about to happen all over again, another generation - his generation - was about to be thrust head-first into that unfinished war which promised only two things: death and pain.

He'd been uncomfortable as Florrie had spoken, spilling her darkest secrets as though it was the first time she'd dared to say them out loud, which it probably was. She'd held those words inside of her for sixteen years, and she'd told him everything, had trusted blindly in him with her life - and Skylar's life. It would have been a terribly costly mistake if he were anybody else. He still couldn't understand why she'd said a word - anybody else would have denied, denied, denied. But secrets were a burden. Maybe she just didn't care. Or maybe she could just sense that he, Cassius Warrington, was not the same Cassius Warrington he'd been before the start of the school year. Maybe she thought he was like his uncle, softened in a twisted way by love. But no. She didn't know about Alicia. Had he really changed that much that this stranger could trust him with her life? Her daughter's life?

He had to admit, the last bit of her story had pricked his skin. It had touched too close to home. History had proven that _his_ type and _her_ type just couldn't work. And it made him sick.

He lit himself a cigarette and slid the pack over to Florrie, who looked up and wiped her eyes.

"Thanks for the drinks," he said, standing up and slipping on his coat. "You can keep the pack."

"I quit, actually. The day Skylar was born."

"And I'm not actually a smoker. Only when I'm drunk."

They both laughed sarcastically before falling into an uncomfortable silence.

"Don't say anything to Skylar yet," he finally muttered. "I'm going to have to figure out all the legal shite before it all blows up."

"I don't care about all the legal shite. I raised her alone. She doesn't need your money - your mother can have it."

"It isn't my money," Cassius interrupted. "That's what you don't understand. It's family money. Rosier money. And as far as inheritance works, Skylar is the last Rosier. Even my mother isn't really a Rosier anymore. So you can't throw it away. It doesn't work that way. When's her birthday anyway?"

"September fourth," Florrie replied bitterly. "If she gets hurt over this -

"I'll deal with it," said Cassius firmly. "Just stay low key. Don't contact me. I'll update you when I get the chance. It might be months, I have to go back to school."

She looked at him, startled.

"Jesus, you're just a kid," she mumbled to herself, as though astonished, as though they hadn't been sitting there drinking and smoking and talking for the last hour and a half.

"I'm Alicia's project partner, remember?" he said before turning on his heel.

"Don't make the same mistakes we did," she said gravely as he walked away. He shuddered inwardly.

* * *

**Thank you all for your reviews from the last chapter. This one is a lot more intense than any of the previous ones, I think, even if it doesn't have much to do with Cassius and Alicia directly. Don't worry! We'll see them soon. Yule's coming up... dun dun dun! **

**Questions? Comments? Critiques? **


	17. Chapter 17

**Wow, guys, thank you for all your reviews! I'm so sorry I couldn't update sooner but I've been ****struck again by that horrible thing called Writer's Block. This is probably my sixth attempt at writing this chapter, but I feel somewhat confident that it's in the right direction. Again, you guys are like my guides so if you notice anything's weird of if you have any guesses as to where this is all going, let me know because your guess is as good as mine! **

**Guest (5/3/13) : I'm glad you loved this chapter. Here's some more Cassius+family for you! As for the Blood Magic thing, you're right, it does need more explaining... I myself don't really understand it. I know, that's ridiculous, considering I'm the author... but all this just sort of spills out of nowhere. But I will be expanding on it at some point so when we get there and if it's still confusing, let me know. You're also right that the past is sort of repeating itself, as it tends to do... The Alicia and Montague thing - well, Montague's really about threats and sometimes they're empty threats. He knows he can't out them without damaging Cassius' reputation. As for Alan, well... I'm intrigued. Why do you think he's more than meets the eye? What do you think he is if not just a simple muggle? **

**guest (5/2/13): I put some links up on my profile so that you can see what some of the characters look like... though you should take it all with a grain of salt - I don't really have a clear image in my head either, since I don't really keep up with celebrities and whatnot... I basically just looked up some people I thought might sort of suit the characters, but they aren't really faithful representations. If you'd prefer to keep your own image of them characters in your head, I suggest you NOT look at the links lol **

**Stromsten: I think I should have clarified the curse a bit more... the curse was simply more diluted in Skylar's case, since she wasn't the direct recipient of it, though Evan did cast it with potential children in mind (don't forget Skylar wasn't born until after Evan died). So basically, Florrie can't be with anybody else because the curse would target whoever 'covets' her, regardless of whether or not their intentions are good or bad (i.e. Jealous Evan says _nobody touches my property_!) while Skylar can do whatever she pleases. That's why Florrie can hug Alan, who doesn't harbour any feelings of lust towards her, but she can't actually hook up with anybody. In Skylar's case, the curse only targets people who look to harm her. If you have any more questions let me know! But you're right, she does still love him... **

**Kerbella: You're English is great! How's my French? Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad you find Cassius so interesting. He's a lot easier to write than Alicia. **

**Chkale: Yeah, Alicia is stupid and naive sometimes. ****I'm trying really hard not to make her annoying, but... well, she's just a typical teenager in love with this complicated mess of a guy and I think she's only starting to see a tiny bit of what kind of mess she's getting into... although you'll see here that she's still really blind to it. Or at least refuses to openly acknowledge it. **

******Supergirl818: There's no Florrie and Evan here, but we'll see more of them soon enough. But here's a little bit of Cassius and Alicia for you. There isn't much, but there will be more soon. Don't forget there's also New Years! And everybody knows that's when the real parties happen :P **

******Etoile Black: I'm glad you liked Evan and Florrie! They were my favourite little muses long before Cassius and Alicia came along. War's coming but at least we know this one ends. You'll get a bittersweet ending, I promise. I've ever gotten this far with a story before, but I actually have some idea of how this is going to end, even if I don't how it's going to get there. **

******Jadely31: Thanks for the review! I hope you find this one just as good. Writer's ****block is a bitch, but it's always amazing when I finally get something out that sounds about right. **

**XOXOXOXOX**

* * *

It was astonishing, really, how things could unravel so quickly, Alicia thought mournfully as she steeled herself for the Big Moment. She glanced anxiously about her, taking in the chatter of the girls around her as she waited for the large candle near the doors to flash green and for the house elf to squeak out her name. Angelina was long gone, blessed with a last name that fell pretty much dead centre in the alphabet, and Alicia had been alone with the vultures for what felt like a lifetime.

The girls around her were Money. Some of them may not have been born with it, but every last one of them was presently attached to a large fortune or estate. They wouldn't have been here otherwise. It was a sham, a marriage market in disguise, her mother had hissed scornfully. Her grandmother hadn't even bothered to put so much tact into her description. The word _husband_ had been uttered far too many times over the past forty-eight hours.

DeWitt, DeWitt, DeWitt.

_This name is your saviour, child_, granny had said sternly.

DeWitt. One of the original Twelve Fae of Avalon, of the _old _Avalon, the great isle _before _it had become the holiday-in-the-sun destination for the rich and the famous of the wizarding world and _don't you forget it_. Alicia had the blood of a powerful sorceress running through her veins. Alright. She was a bastard. Worse, she was a half-blood bastard. But it could be worked with... she just had to find herself a good husband with a good name... maybe somebody suffering from financial issues - it was outstanding what people were willing to overlook when money was a problem..._such a shame those Blacks had to go the way they did... if there'd been a boy your age... but they would never have looked twice at you anyway, not with your father being who he is, money or no money_. _  
_

Alicia gritted her teeth as the girls next to her burst into laughter, their bright eyes shining maliciously as they gossiped away in a foreign tongue. Russian maybe?

Bitches. She didn't have to understand them to know what they were.

The green light. The oversized candle at the front of the room had turned bright green. _Green for go_.

"Spinnet! Alicia Spinnet!"

_Oh shit._

The room fell silent as the few remaining girls watched her scramble to the front of the room. The house elf was waving its arms maniacally as the door swung open. _Hurry miss!_

Alicia fought to keep her heart in her chest as she met Carson's eyes from across the hallway. He gave her an encouraging smile and she wanted to throw up. _Left foot, right foot, heel-toe, heel-toe_.

She could fly a million feet above the ground with no hands on a broom but she couldn't walk in a straight line wearing one-inch heels.

"_Just look at me_," he mouthed as they approached each other towards the middle of the corridor. Her gloves had to be soaked with sweat. She sucked in a deep breath as they came face to face with each other, so close she could smell him. He took her arm, his bare fingers ghosting over her skin, and she shivered inwardly as they turned to face the crowded room below.

The debutantes and their escorts were standing in two straight parallel lines in the middle of the ballroom. Around them on both sides were round tables covered in white tablecloths with little champagne flutes, where friends and family and other _Very Important People_ sat about to watch on. Alicia noted with some alarm that a quiet, barely perceptible murmur rose in the air as her name was announced. _It's okay_, Carson murmured softly as they carefully made their way down the centre of the stairs.

It wasn't oaky. She could see Him, and his eyes were on her like everybody else in the room, and for a split-second she thought she would tumble down the rest of the stairs had Carson not been gripping her so tightly, whispering words of encouragement into her ear.

He stared at her blankly, his expression giving away nothing as usual, his eyes hard and empty. Her gaze flickered to the girl standing next to him, and she felt bile rise to the back of her throat as she and Carson stepped onto the ballroom floor. _She looks like me_, Alicia thought wildly as Carson guided her towards the end of the shorter of two lines. _The sonofabitch. She fucking looks like me.__  
_

* * *

"We only get two dances besides this one," said Carson with a mock sad face as they stepped away from the dancing area and melted into the crowd.

"You're lucky it's only two, otherwise your feet would be black and blue," Alicia muttered as she spotted her grandmother and great-grandmother out of the corner of her eye. Her grandfather had hightailed it to the so-called _gentlemen's room_ as soon as the first dance had ended.

"Oh come on, you underestimate yourself," Carson argued jokingly. "They're only black!"

"Hardee-har-har."

"There you two are!" said Angelina suddenly, coming up from behind Carson. She and Carson kissed cheeks before Angelina grabbed Alicia by the hand. "Sorry, Bishop, but I'm going to have to borrow your girl for a few minutes - poor Katie's being carted off to the _children's room_ now that the first dance is over."

Carson made a face and Alicia looked quizzically between them.

"The children's room?"

"The children's room, Hell - whatever you want to call it," said Carson sympathetically.

"It's for all the... er, undebuted, if that's even a word," said Angelina as she dragged Alicia away.

"The what?"

"You know," said Angelina impatiently as they discreetly forced their way through the crowd. "Like, younger siblings or relatives or children of friends or whatever. Katie's here for her cousin because her father's her godfather and yadda yadda yadda. But since she hasn't come out yet, she can't stay in the ballroom. There's always a children's room at these things if there are ever... er, children invited."

"But Katie's not a child! That's ridiculous -

"And so is this entire charade but that's how it is. Anyway, they aren't supposed to leave the room but we can pay a visit and I promised Katie we'd come by to keep her company for a little while."

"Well that's bloody bollocks," Alicia muttered.

Angelina ignored her until they managed to push their way towards the stairs. Had it really been only an hour ago that she'd made her way down those very same steps? And that was it? Go down some stairs and all of a sudden she was _debuted_?

The world was a crazy place.

She followed Angelina up the stairs and down the corridor, past the room in which they'd been staying in earlier as they'd waited to debut. Raucous laughter echoed from within.

"Men," Angelina muttered, rolling her eyes as somebody shouted _"__Eat shit, Vespucci, read 'em and weep!"_

"You've been here before," Alicia commented in surprise as she followed Angelina to the left. She remembered the incident with Montague as they passed a familiar looking portrait of a fat woman with a wobbling chin, and frowned in irritation.

"My sister came out with one of Flint's sisters," Angelina replied. "They stuck me in the children's room that day too. People generally use the same room for these sort of - Flint!"

Alicia whipped out her wand at the same time as Angelina and they both sprinted over towards the end of the corridor, where Marcus Flint was towering over Katie (a difficult feat, considering Katie's statuesque height nearly rivalled Angelina's). He dropped her wrist and put his hands up in the air, sneering mockingly, green-grey eyes glinting in amusement.

"Katie, are you alright?" Angelina asked as Alicia stormed up to Flint and demanded what he was doing with their friend.

"Don't get yourself worked up over nothing, Spinnet," Flint replied, leaning easily against the wall, his hands crossed behind his head. Alicia jabbed his wand under his chin. "What remarkable manners you have," he said loftily. "Did anybody ever tell you that you make for a terrible house guest? Going around giving blow jobs in corridors, and now this - threatening your host -

"Fuck you, Flint," Alicia hissed.

"What's he talking about?" Angelina demanded.

"Nothing."

Flint laughed.

"Put away your wand, Spinnet - we both know you're not going to attack me in my own house." He flicked at her wand and approached Angelina and Katie.

"Get away from her," said Alicia threateningly.

Marcus threw her an irritated glance.

"I wasn't hurting her," he said scornfully.

"I - it's true," said Katie, looking at the ground. Angelina and Alicia exchanged glances.

"Then why did he grab you by the wrist?"

"He didn't," Katie replied. "I mean he did, but it's not what you think. I cut my wand hand on the sword on that suit of armour because I wanted to get a better look at the inscription. Stupid thing tried to attack me. Mar - Flint was just trying to help."

Alicia and Angelina both stared at Flint in disbelief. He scowled at them.

"I'm not bloody evil," he snapped. He turned to glare at Katie, who turned bright red under his angry scrutiny. "And next time, don't go around touching things that don't belong to you."

They stared in stunned silence as he stormed away.

"What the hell was that all about?" said Alicia, wondering why he'd gone from mocking and confident to surly and irritated within the span of three seconds.

"Bloody weirdo," Angelina muttered. "It's all that inbreeding. And what the fuck was that he said about you? _Blow jobs?_"

"It's nothing," said Alicia irritably. When both Katie and Angelina stared at her in disbelief, she crossed her arms and glared at them. "I'm serious! Merlin's balls. If you _must_ know, I ran into Montague when we were here for that stupid luncheon and we got into a little shoving match and he bloody hid my wand behind his feet against the wall. Obviously he wouldn't just give it back to me so I had to get it myself and Flint just happened to come by and obviously he thought I was... well. Yeah."

"What!" Angelina shrieked. "What a bloody douchebag! I fucking _hate_ Montague. We _have_ to beat them at Quidditch this year or else I'll never live it down."

"You're telling me," Alicia muttered.

"Katie! Katie, where have you been? Mum and I've been looking all over for you!"

The girls turned around.

"Bea!"

"Hello girls," said Beatrice as she approached them.

"Wow, you two look ridiculously identical," said Alicia, glancing between Katie and her older sister. Beatrice winked and Katie squealed as her older sister snapped at what Alicia could only assume was her invisible bra strap.

"Ever since the breasts came in! About time I say!"

"Bea, you bitch!"

Beatrice laughed and ducked as Katie tried to swot her head. Angelina and Alicia snorted.

"Sorry girls, I'm going to have to take Katie away. Mum's gone mad trying to look for her. _You_ were supposed to be in the children's room -

"I was looking for the loo!"

"You've been here before. Haven't I taught you to lie better than that?"

"I was!" Katie whined. "It's bloody _boring_ in there, all those stupid spoiled brats. I'm seventeen for circe's sake. Just because I was born in goddamn December." She glared at Alicia, who shrugged innocently.

"Hey, don't blame me just because I was born earlier than you."

* * *

"Look at them all, travelling in bloody packs," Pucey complained as they watched a trio of Italian girls stroll past them, giggling as they waved their fans. "How is anybody supposed to pick one up when they've all got the stupid fat friend interfering? I swear, every time I've been cock-blocked tonight, it's by the ugliest friend of the pack."

Montague snorted under his breath as he simultaneously winked at a girl who was passing by with her mother, a thin, vulture-like woman sporting a precariously vertical hat on top of her voluminous pile of auburn curls. Cassius sighed inwardly as he watched his mother converse with her friends out of the corner of his eye.

She was holding up remarkably well - she hadn't touched a drop in the two days since his father had summoned her back to England, and looking at her now, it was as though she were not in fact a closet alcoholic. She'd been nursing the same glass of rose for the past hour, and was only just now draining the glass. If only she could keep herself straight every other day of the week. But then again, his mother had always been about duty. Duty, bloody Duty.

Her eyes flashed in his direction, almost as though she'd sensed him watching her, and he sighed in irritation as she discreetly nodded him over.

"Duty calls," he muttered, hating the sound of the four letter word as it spilled out of his mouth.

He wandered over towards his mother, who was standing next to Montague's mother and Olga Lestrange.

"What are you boys getting up to over there?" his mother asked lightly. "Shouldn't you be dancing with some young lady?"

His eyes flickered to Lady Lestrange, who was beaming at him. He felt his insides shrivel in disgust. _Matchmaking_.

"I've already done two sets with Margarita."

This wasn't a lie. He'd wanted it over as soon as possible. He'd ditched his little debutante almost immediately.

"But you haven't danced with my Natasha," said Lady Lestrange.

"You used to play together as children," his mother informed him.

Cassius scowled inwardly as a tall, slim, dark haired girl with sharp features and large eyes approached them. She might have been beautiful were it not for the humourlessness of her cold, false smile.

Introductions were made and Cassius found himself silently dancing with the girl, who similarly made no effort to engage him in conversation. Until they smacked into another couple. Or rather, another couple smacked into them.

"Oh, I'm so sorry -

"You stupid girl - oh. Of course it would be _you_. You're excused. One can't expect some halfblood love-child to conduct herself in public with decorum," said Natasha condescendingly. "Why, it'd be simply demoralizing if I were to hold such high expectations, don't you agree, Cassius?"

_For fuck's sake_.

"You're right," said Alicia sweetly as she eyed Natasha up and down, "Just as one can't expect the daughter of a locked-up psychopath to dress herself as anything but a whore when it's clear that she's just chockfull of daddy issues. Tell me Lestrange, how do you like visiting daddy and auntie and uncle Crazy in Azkaban? Do they give you a goodbye kiss when you leave? Or does daddy just get the Dementors to do it for him because he can't stand the sight of your face? I mean, considering the fact that you obviously have no soul and all, it would make sense."

_Double fuck_.

"_Cruci-_

Cassius reacted immediately as the unforgivable was spat out of Natasha's mouth, and he shoved her aside with as much force as possible before she could finish the curse, just as Bishop's ham-sized fist swung out, clipping Cassius in the side of the face as he found himself standing where Natasha had been a split second earlier. The crowd around them had scattered, but Cassius was deaf and blind to the chaos around him. He barrelled into Bishop, furious at what could have just happened, furious with himself, with Natasha, with Bishop, with Alicia.

_"Ecarto!_" somebody shouted, and Cassius braced himself for impact as he felt the spell hit him and send him flying away from Bishop, who was sent in the opposite direction. They landed with two loud thumps on the hard surface of the floor.

Cassius stood up dizzily and found himself being restrained by both Pucey and Montague, who'd shoved their way towards him and were now holding him steady.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Cassius stumbled towards Alicia and Natasha, who were also being restrained by their respective friends and family members. Cassius swallowed as he caught sight of his father staring down at him from the top of the stairs, along with the other men who'd made their way out of the game rooms upstairs to see what was going on. That look only meant one thing. He was a marked man.

His mother was crying, cold tears of rage trickling down her cheeks as Lady Montague consoled her with a fresh glass of wine. He could feel his father's gaze burning into him like so many hot pins as his father swiftly descended towards him.

Bishop too was being dragged back towards ground zero by his stupid friends, Davies and Kapur, both of whom looked to be in shock.

Marcus Flint was consoling his two sisters, which was a sight indeed, while Flint Sr. discussed in low tones with people whom Cassius could only imagine were witnesses to the entire fiasco.

"If you will all follow me," said Flint Sr. coldly once Cassius and Bishop were within earshot.

As if on cue, the music started up again, as did the frenzy of whispers while the brawling party exited the ballroom, silently marching like mourners carrying a casket at a funeral.

* * *

They stood in the corridor outside of the ballroom, separated into little groups by family with Flint Sr. in the middle. After a moment of silence, the old wizard's lips uncurled and he opened his mouth to speak.

"I have half the mind to throw you all out for this embarrassment," he said in a frosty voice. "But I won't. Because that would simply give more material for those vultures in there to feed upon."

He held up his hand to silence Lady Lestrange, who'd tried to cut in.

"I don't care who said what or who did what first or how any of this started. The deed is done and it cannot be taken back. Your children - ahem, your _progeny_," he said, glaring at Alicia's grandparents, "Have all brought shame to your families and unto mine. This incident will never be forgotten. Consider this your last invitation to any event to be held in this household so long as I'm alive. I expect you will all leave as soon as is acceptable and not a second later. Am I making myself clear?"

They all murmured in agreement.

"Oh. And Miss Lestrange."

Everybody froze and looked back at Old Flint.

"The next time you decide to use an unforgivable, refrain from doing it on my property in the presence of Ministry employees. You are extremely fortunate that the only witnesses to the exchange were Greek. They do not have the same curses over there as we do here. Now get out of my sight."

* * *

Despite Katie's dislike of the children's room, Alicia found it immensely more calming than standing about in the ballroom. It made her terribly nostalgic for her childhood. How had seven years gone by so fast? She raged inwardly as she and Katie circled the room for the fifth time, talking in low voices as Alicia replayed the incident in her head. She sighed for the umpteenth time, and glanced enviously at a group of children who were playing with Exploding Snap. She stopped to let a couple toddlers run past her as they chased after a chocolate frog.

Katie patted her back reassuringly, though even she'd looked horrified when Alicia had first burst into the children's room and told her tale, her head hung low in shame.

"I still can't believe she tried to use the cruciatus," said Katie in a low voice. _  
_

"You and me both," Alicia mumbled.

"And wait, let me go over this part again. Warrington shoved her out of the way?"

He had. She'd watched him do it, almost like in slow motion.

"Don't read too much into it," said Alicia quickly. "I'm sure the only reason he did it was so that she wouldn't get arrested or something."

"That's true. Mr. Johnson would have had her locked up in Azkaban for you in a heartbeat. What's that saying again? Like father like daughter. Those Lestranges are insane. But I can't believe you said that to her!"

"Oh, you should have seen her face. Actually, to be quite honest, it was rather scary. I don't doubt for a second that she would have cursed me right then and there."

"And Carson tried to _punch_ her?"

"Yeah, well I guess so. If Ca - If Warrington hadn't jumped in when he did, he would have knocked the bitch out!" She cringed as a couple kids crossed her line of sight. "Oops. Maybe I shouldn't swear so much. Urgh, I need to use the toilet."

"You going to come back?"

"I dunno," Alicia sighed. "Maybe. I suppose I'll have to go back down at some point."

"Good luck," said Katie solemnly. "I'll still be here... all damn night."

* * *

"_Finite_."

Cassius gasped for air as he crawled onto all fours and before he shakily stood onto his feet.

"Still screaming," said his father coldly, shaking his head in disgust as he bore holes into Cassius' face with his piercing stare.

"Stand up straight when your father speaks to you," his mother snapped sharply as she hysterically waved her wand glass of wine about.

"Let's try this again, shall we?"

Cassius shut his eyes and took a deep breath. _It's only mental, it's only mental_.

"That's right, Cassius," his father hissed. "It's only mental. _Crucio_."

No matter how hard he'd tried to brace himself for the pain, he couldn't fight it off. This is what it felt like to die. This is what it felt like to _want_ to die.

"_Finite. _Get up and wipe your mouth. You're drooling like an invalid."

Blindly, Cassius stood onto his feet and wiped his mouth.

"Aren't you going to greet out gracious host? You ought to thank him for his generosity in allowing us to use one of his private chambers."

Cassius looked around, and sure enough, Old Flint Sr. was standing by the doorway with Marcus by his side. His old Quidditch captain stared back at him, face carefully wiped of any emotion, but his body was tense and Cassius could practically feel Marcus' uneasiness.

"Thank you sir," said Cassius, glancing back at Flint Sr. His voice came out hoarsely. He coughed. "And I apologize for bringing such shame to your family. It was not at all my intention. I only wanted to stop Miss Lestrange from casting the curse. It was wrong of me to attack Carson Bishop. He only hit me by accident." He turned to his parents. "And I apologize to both of you as well for my misconduct. Thank you, father, for teaching me a lesson. I only hope I can repair the family name."

"Thoughtful words from a thoughtful boy," said Old Flint cheerfully, and Cassius wanted to hurl as the old man came towards him to clasp his shoulder. He held back a groan. Flint Sr. still had the grip of a troll despite his age. "If the... lesson is complete, then I suggest the two of you join me back in the ballroom before somebody suspects something is... more amiss than it already is. The boys can join us in a few minutes."

"If it is your wish," said his father solemnly. "We understand perfectly if you would prefer us to leave, of course -

"Nonsense. I can see here that you both care about your son's well-being, otherwise you would not be here teaching him a lesson. Cassius is a good boy. And as they say, boys will be boys. He was only trying to protect the young Lestrange from suffering the same fate as her poor father. It is... admirable. He was simply... overzealous. You are more than welcome to stay, though I cannot say the same for the others. Parents these days... It is refreshing to see that some people still value the old ways of teaching. The young Bishop boy is wandering about as though he hasn't done a thing wrong, and his parents condone it. Come now, I'll have one of the elves refresh your glass, my lady..."

The door slammed shut, and Cassius was left standing in the empty, dimly lit room with only Marcus for company.

"C'mon," said Flint gruffly, opening the door. "I'll grab you a drink."

* * *

Cassius splashed cool water onto his face for the tenth time. It seemed no matter how many times he did so, the burn of the _cruciatus_ would not leave him. He knew it was purely psychological, but reasoning his way through it didn't help in relieving the uncomfortable prickle left under his skin by the curse. Flint had offered him a self-refilling glass of Ogden's and had escorted him to the bathroom so that he could wash his face and rearrange his clothes. His sound advice: keep drinking. The burn would go away once his mind let go. Cassius saw that he spoke from experience. He wisely chose not to comment on it.

He pushed open the window and sat on top of the toilet tank so that he could flick his cigarette ashes into the toilet bowl. The cool winter air felt delicious against his hot skin and he savoured each blistering bite of the wind. Just as he drained his second refill and lit himself a third cigarette, the bathroom door burst open. Cassius swore as he dropped the glass into the toilet. Alicia stared back at him, stunned.

"Get out," he snarled as he summoned the glass out of the grey, ashy waters of the toilet bowl. She stared at him like an idiot, mouth open in surprise. "Get out!" he repeated coldly as he walked over the sink to clean out the glass and to wash his hands before muttering a good cleaning charm. He tapped the glass with his wand like Flint had instructed him. It refilled itself with more of the amber goodness. He took a long sip.

The door slammed shut.

"You're still here."

"What happened to you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cassius replied coldly. He swigged back the rest of the liquor in disgust. "Get the fuck out. I won't tell you again." He picked up his cigarette from the edge of the sink and took a deep drag.

"Your clothes are all ripped," she said, sounding frightened. "And your face - what the hell happened to your face?"

Cassius glanced at himself in the mirror.

So he'd clawed at his own face. Pain could do that to a man.

"_Tergeo_," he muttered, pointing his wand at his face. The scratches healed themselves and he turned to face her.

"There. Happy? Now Get. Out."

"Cassius, please -

"Shut up, Spinnet. Just shut up. You've done enough. You've done enough to last me a life time. We can't - _I_ can't do this anymore. It's over, do you understand?"

"Just tell me what happened to you -

"Why?" he demanded angrily, slamming his glass down on the counter. "Why the hell do you want to know? Why should I tell you anything? The less you know the better anyway. Do yourself a goddamn favour, Spinnet. Wake the fuck up. Wake the fuck up and get out while you still can. Go find Bishop and give him your fucking attention, I don't need or want it. Just leave. Me. Alone." He paused to tap his glass again before looking up at her. "_Please_," he added quietly. "Just go. Don't make me fucking beg."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said stubbornly. "Not until you tell me what happened."

He stomped towards her and reached out to grab her by the shoulders. He felt a momentary stab of hurt when she flinched and raised her arm as though to shield herself from a blow. He dropped his arms by his sides and stared down at her.

She was beautiful.

She was beautiful, and she had to go. She couldn't stay here. Not with him. Not ever with him.

"Get out," he repeated, his heart beating erratically as she reached up to smooth down his hair. "For fuck's sake, Alicia! Leave! Now!"

She shook her head stubbornly, the tiny little white pearls in her hair sparking magnificently under the soft glow of the bathroom lights. He caught a glimpse of their reflection through the mirror, and he choked in anger. She stood before him, every bit the Gryffindor, her gloved hands perched on her hips, as she stared fiercely but tenderly back at him through the mirror. And there he was, in his torn dress robes slightly streaked with blood from when he'd hit the floor face first in pain the first time his father had cast the curse. Despite her two-second effort at patting down his hair, it stuck out at odd angles, some of it still plastered to his face from sweat and water.

He looked back at her, and her lower lip trembled. He glanced down at her from head to toe, examining the cut of the dress on her. He'd refused to pay attention earlier... hadn't _wanted_ to pay attention earlier.

_"Colloportus_."

"What are you doing?" Cassius murmured hoarsely, his throat still sore from screaming. He swallowed as he stared at her back, admiring how the lace-up back of the dress exposed her soft skin.

"_Silencio_."

She turned back to face him, her expression serious.

"If you won't tell me what happened, then at least tell me that you're okay."

Cassius looked away.

"I'm not okay," he said furiously. "Which is why you need to leave. Now."

"You won't hurt me," she said softly.

"Oh no?" he hissed, stalking towards her angrily. He slammed his hand up against the door next to her head, hating himself as she flinched. He smiled grimly. "You're afraid," he said softly. "And you should be. Do you know who I am? Do you have any idea who I am? I told you to leave. I'm _telling_ you to leave, _Spinnet__. _If you had any sense in that head of yours, you would fucking do as I say." She shivered as a gust of cold air filled the bathroom, and he smiled humourlessly as she rubbed the goosebumps on her arms with her beautifully gloved hands. "Look at you," he said angrily, "All fucking delicate. Where's your boyfriend? Go find Bishop. _Bishop_'s the man for you -

"But _you_ love me, not Carson. _Y__ou,_" she said sharply, cutting him off, cutting off his air supply as the horrendous accusation entered his ears. Cassius snatched his glass from the counter and hurled it onto the floor behind him in rage. She let out a soft scream of surprise. "Scared Spinnet? You fucking should be -

"Shut up Cassius! You think you scare me? You think throwing a stupid glass is what it takes? You must be drunker than I thought. How many glasses have you had? Three? Four? My father owns a _pub_, for chrissake. I've dealt with worse than you. _Reparo_. Do you want to know what scares me?" He flinched when she reached up and touched his face, the cool satin of her white gloves stroking his shaved face, bringing relief to the burn from his father's curse, the burn from the booze, the burn from his rage. "_This_ scares me. Seeing you _hurt_ scares me." She took a deep breath and brought her other hand to his cheek so that she cradled his face gently between her gloved hands. "Loving you scares me."

"You should run," he said tonelessly, pushing her hands away. "You should run straight into Bishop's arms and never look back."

"You don't get it," she said, sounding exhausted all of a sudden as she slipped away from him and leaned against the sink. She stared unhappily at the wall in front of her. "I could run far and wide and I'd still be looking back for you. I'll _always_ be looking back for you. I know it. And I think you know it too."

"Then you should probably know that this isn't going to end well," he said casually, as he lit himself a cigarette.

She snatched it from him with lightning speed and took a deep drag.

"Then we'll go to Timbuktu," she said as she exhaled slowly, a small unhappy smile tugging at her lips as she laughed at some sort of private joke.

Cassius clenched her free hand in his own.

"Alright," he said resignedly. "Timbuktu it is."

* * *

**Okay, so how do we feel about this? Is Alicia getting annoying? It's hard getting her to be more... er, well, serious I suppose when she has no idea what's going on in Cassius' world! **

**Anyway, read and review guys! **

**XOXO**


	18. Chapter 18

**Thanks to Guests, Supergirl818, Etoile Black, Sibel88 and NC for your reviews. Guest (5/15/13) - Jenna Louise Coleman is a way better candidate. Thank god some of us have celebrity knowledge! As for Alicia's dad, your comment actually sparked an interesting idea, but I realized that it would never work. But just in case I find some way to work it into the story, I'm not going to say anything more on the topic... That said, there's another reason why you guys should review besides stroking my ego lol - I get some of my best inspiration from your suggestions or suspicions so do leave comments or critiques! **

**XOXO**

**-Coalhaus**

**PS **

**I saw a guy the other day who looked exactly like how I pictured Marcus in my head. It would have been totally weird if I were to have taken a picture of him though lol so I'll troll the net until I find something!**

* * *

"You should go," said Cassius, voice still scratchy from screaming, as Alicia put out the cigarette in the sink. He took the butt from her and she ignored the delicious tingle that shot up her arm as his fingers grazed her own.

She examined him warily as he kept his distance from her, and wondered just what exactly had happened to him since Marcus Flint's father had dismissed them all just over an hour ago.

Her own grandparents had dragged her aside and had expressed their deepest anger and disappointment. Then her grandfather had shuffled off to find Flint Sr. in order to express his apologies and to arrange some sort of way to keep them within his good graces - which, her great-grandmother had not hesitated to remind her, was exactly what old Flint had intended in the first place... all four of them, the Lestranges, the Warringtons, the Dewitts and the Bishops, were from _good_ families. _Old_ families. _Rich_ families. Kicking them out from tonight's event would be punishment enough... but to ban them from any future events hosted by the Flints would be the pinnacle of shame. Flint Sr. knew this and he also knew that all four families would go out of their way to make reparations. Alicia had cringed when she realized that her grandfather would literally have to pay their way out of shame. _  
_

But what had happened to Cassius? He looked like he'd just come off the pitch from a Quidditch match... a very fancy Quidditch match, in any case. Alicia had watched him stand stiffly next to his parents as Flint Sr. had chastised them in the corridor earlier on. Both his parents were tall, which was no surprise considering Cassius' height. They were also... unsettling. His mother was... off. Something in the way her large, heavily-lidded eyes had flickered about was disturbing. She moved like some sort of insect, her gaze taking in everything at once though her limbs were stiff, every movement precise and deliberate. And his father... Alicia could see where Cassius had inherited his facial expressions - or lack thereof. While Cassius seemed to have inherited most of his physical features from his mother, his mannerisms reflected his father. They had both stood stiffly side by side, wearing identical frosty masks that gave away nothing. Except for the eyes. Alicia had learned to read Cassius through his eyes, and it seemed that his father was no different. And what Alicia had read in Cassius' father's eyes was pure, unadulterated rage. When the man had caught her staring, his lips had curled unpleasantly, his eyes flashing momentarily in disgust. Alicia had never felt so ashamed to be herself. _Half-blood_. _  
_

In her heart, as she watched Cassius sip on his firewhiskey (how many was that now, anyway?), she knew that Montague had been right. She was no good for him. Something had happened to him after Flint had dismissed them, something bad. And that, she knew, was her fault.

He glanced back at her over his shoulder as though he felt her staring, and she looked away in shame.

"You should probably go before somebody comes looking for you," he said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "Probably."

They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment, when the doorknob suddenly rattled and Alicia looked away, whipping around to stare at the door in horror.

"It's occupied," Cassius called out.

The rattling stopped and Alicia bit her lip nervously as she quietly approached Cassius, who was still standing by the toilet.

"It reeks in here," she whispered quietly. He nodded curtly and quickly cast a few charms to vanish the odour of smoke and whiskey.

"I'm going to disillusion you," he murmured as he flushed the toilet to rid it of it's ashy contents.

"Okay," she said softly as she felt him tap her with his wand. She shivered at the feeling of being hit over the head with a raw egg. As the charm travelled down her body, it was as though she was being coated in egg yolk. It was quite disgusting.

"I can't see you," he muttered as he walked over to the sink and turned on the tap. "Take your wand and hold it out against my back. That way I'll know if you're still with me and nobody will be able to tell."

"Cassius," she hissed as he turned off the taps. "Your clothes!"

"Shit," he mumbled, staring at himself briefly in the mirror before muttering a quick _reparo_.

"And your hair!"

The doorknob rattled again.

"Calm down, I'm nearly finished," Cassius snapped in the door's direction.

"What are you doing in there? Waiting for the grass to grow?" the person on the other side complained.

Alicia frowned at the familiar voice. Of course it just had to be Angelina.

"Follow me," Cassius whispered. "And keep your wand on my back."

Alicia took a deep breath and waited for Cassius to open the door.

"Oh. It's you," said Angelina with a scowl. She looked at him suspiciously and glanced at the open window. She flicked her wand and it slammed shut. "You going to stand there all bloody night, Warrington?"

"I dunno, maybe if it makes your life a little it more miserable."

Alicia prodded Cassius in the back and he let out a grunt. Angelina gave him a funny look before shoving him aside as she muttered, "You Slytherins get weirder and weirder every year." Alicia scrambled to the side and narrowly avoided colliding into her. Cassius stepped out of the bathroom and she quickly followed him as Angelina slammed the door behind them. As she tried to take a step forward, she realized in horror that her dress was caught between the door and the frame.

"Cassius!" she hissed, glancing anxiously back at two men who had just rounded the corridor and were headed in their direction. "My dress!"

"For fuck's sake," he muttered before casually leaning against the wall as though waiting to use the bathroom. Alicia held her breath as the two men passed them and nodded in Cassius' direction.

"Ok," Cassius mumbled when the men were out of earshot. "When she opens the door, just get out of the way as quickly as possible."

"What about you?"

"I left my glass in there anyway," he replied softly.

Alicia froze as she heard Angelina's heels clicking against the bathroom floor. _Three, two, one -_

Alicia jumped aside as soon as the door swung open.

"Warrington!" Angelina barked in surprise. "What the hell are you doing skulking around like that?"

"If you must know," Cassius sneered, "I left my glass in there."

"Of course you did," she sniffed. "If I were you, I'd do something about your breath," she added over her shoulder as she sauntered away. "You smell like a regular at the Hog's Head."

"Bitch," Cassius muttered under his breath. He grunted when Alicia prodded him with the wand again. "Stop doing that," he hissed before falling silent as a little boy accompanied by an older girl walked over in their direction. He quickly walked into the bathroom and retrieved his glass, exiting just as the children had made their way over to where Alicia was standing, still camouflaged and holding her breath to avoid detection. The girl, who looked to be about twelve, looked up at Cassius and blushed when he smiled at her as he held open the door for her. Alicia fought back a laugh as the little girl quickly dragged her younger charge into the bathroom, face flaming in embarrassment.

"_Finite._"

Alicia shivered as she felt the disillusionment charm recede.

"Now go before the kids come out," he mumbled as he glanced around to make sure nobody was coming. "I'll see you around."

She looked at him hesitantly but he brushed her off with one of his closed expressions. She only took two steps before she felt his warm, callused hand on her bare shoulder, and she felt a shiver of excitement rush through her as he lowered his head to whisper into her ear, his perpetually chapped lips brushing roughly against her. _Berkley House, 47 Bramwood Lane, London_. _Floo t__onight_.

* * *

Cassius watched in frustration as Alicia's grandmother paraded her about amongst a number of irritatingly available - and some significantly older - bachelors. While the events from earlier on in the night were not forgotten, it seemed that certain people were willing to write off the incident for the time being as they conversed - and danced - with Alicia while her grandparents and great-grandmother looked on with approval. His only consolation was that it seemed the Bishops - or rather, Carson Bishop in particular - was being kept at a distance from her. Still. He had to bite his tongue each time he caught a glance of her being manhandled by some preening pervert looking to plump up his bank accounts. He recognized most of the men she'd danced with, and the connection between them was not lost on him... they were all the unfortunate, formerly wealthy victims of the recent stock market plummets that had shocked the wizarding world since the news and rumours of the Dark Lord's return. While they lacked funds, Cassius noticed grimly, they still had their names (and still-wealthy relations) to hold onto... It seemed the DeWitts were willing to take a small hit to their bank accounts if it meant allying their granddaughter with one of the sticky-handed sonsofbitches.

"Cassius," Montague murmured, appearing out of the crowd, "We're being... requested."

He followed Montague's gaze towards the stairs, where Marcus Flint was standing, stoically observing the crowd below. He met Cassius' gaze and gave him a curt nod. Cassius felt a foreboding shiver crawl up his back.

"What about Adrien?"

Montague shook his head.

Cassius followed Montague as they weaved in and out of the crowd until they reached the stairs. Once they pushed their way to the top, past a group of loitering twenty-somethings who looked to be deep into the cups, Flint signalled them to follow him.

They followed Flint in silence, each of them deeply aware of what conversation was undoubtedly about to follow. It was starting.

Flint led them to a portrait of a young girl playing the piano, and he tapped a few of the piano keys with his wand. The portrait swung open, revealing a lounging room full of the usual exotic luxuries Flint Sr. seemed to be fond of.

Flint summoned a house elf and it served them a stiff glass of _Ogden's_ each. _  
_

"Warrington, roll us a spliff," said Flint, passing Cassius a familiar wooden box that he hadn't seen since Flint had left school. _  
_

They sat in silence, watching the flames flickering in the fireplace until Cassius finished rolling and sparked the joint. The sweet scent of weed and hash filled the air. Muggles were stupid, Cassius thought, as he felt a familiar haze blanket his mind. Why would anybody classify marijuana as an illegal substance? There were thousands of other more dangerous plants, like devil's snare or -

"There's going to be an Azkaban bust," said Flint suddenly, interrupting Cassius' thoughts as casually as though he were remarking on the weather. He looked up and stared at his former captain, who was twirling his wand around his fingers as he swirled his drink in the glass with his other hand.

"Why are you telling us this?"

"Because. You two'll be graduating soon and They'll be looking for new recruits."

Cassius glanced uncertainly at Montague, who looked just as disturbed by the prospects.

"What about Adrien?"

Flint scoffed at the mention of his potential future brother-in-law.

"Pucey's a pussy," he said. "Time and place for everything. They're not interested in him now."

"But they're interested in us. And are you -

Flint shook his head, looking just as unhappy as Cassius felt.

"No," he said. "But father is."

No surprise there...the Flints were one of the _Sacred Twenty-Eight_. Flint Sr. had been close with the Dark Lord since their school days. It was a well-known fact.

"Why us?" Cassius asked, mentally tallying up the number of non-purebloods that made up the Warrington ancestry. At least five that he could think of, two half bloods and three with mixed blooded heritage. His mother's side had been pure, but that didn't really matter... he wasn't a Rosier. He was a Warrington. And the Warringtons were not one of the _Sacred Twenty-Eight_. They had not been pure since at least the mid 19th century, even if they certainly continued to carry on like they were... Though, he snickered silently, the Rosiers were not exactly one of the _Sacred_ anymore either... In fact, the _Twenty-Eight_ had dwindled down to something like the _Eight _in the last sixty year's since the list's publication.

"Because you're the best and the brightest on our side," said Flint, interrupting Cassius' musings, sarcastically making air quotes with his fingers. "Father wanted me to let you know that they'll be looking into you two when you graduate. For now, he wants you to keep an eye out at Hogwarts. Apparently Umbridge is looking into starting some sort of... I think father called it the Inquisitorial Squad. But she won't be able to push that through as long as Dumbledore's around."

Flint shut his eyes as Montague passed him the spliff again. He inhaled deeply and unleashed a cloud of smoke like an angry dragon.

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"What do you do?" Cassius pressed.

Flint let out a barking laugh.

"I play Quidditch, I get drunk, I shag some fit birds, and occasionally I'm father's messenger boy." He took another hit off the spliff. "The plus side to being nothing but a dumb athlete," he said, eyes glittering sharply, "Is that I'm not trusted to be able to carry out much else. That's where you two will undoubtedly come in." He passed Cassius the spliff. "So I'd start failing my NEWTs if I were you two."

Cassius inhaled sharply and glanced at Montague, who drained his firewhiskey in a quick gulp.

"Circe," Montague muttered, looking less than pleased. "So who else is supposed to be on this bloody squad?"

Flint shrugged.

"A few youngers. Malfoy and Nott obviously. Bulstrode, Parkinson. Crabbe and Goyle. The Burke twins."

Cassius made a face.

"So basically a bunch of bloody twats. What's with all the fifth years?" Montague scoffed.

"Potter," said Cassius and Flint simultaneously.

Of course Potter. Everything came down to Potter in the end, didn't it? The Boy-Who-Lived versus the Dark Lord, Part Two (or was it three, if one included the Diggory fiasco)... And it looked like he was going to be sucked into this mess, whether he wanted to be or not. He frowned as he remembered his father's words... Stay alive. He was his father's only son. If he died, there would only be his aunt or his two cousins, both girls, left to inherit. Cassius leaned back into his seat and smiled bitterly. He could just picture his father's face upon hearing that his only son had died. And then there was Alicia. Would they even be... whatever they were in a year's time? It seemed they had a pattern of breaking up and making up... And of course, there was Carson Bishop. He knew Alicia hadn't yet shagged him but a bloke could only wait for so long. He dug his nails into his palm as he thought about the blonde-haired twat touching her. But Bishop was the boyfriend. Bishop had the - the _right_. He took another sharp drag off the end of the spliff and put out the roach. He would have to do something about this. What had he been thinking, telling her to run into that prick's open arms? And what if she'd done it? But no. She'd come back to him, he was sure of it. She'd said so herself... she'd always be looking back for him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was in such deep shit. And where was that damned house elf? He should have eaten more during the reception... his stomach churned unpleasantly -

"_Fuck! _Jesus, Warrington, give us a warning next time, will you? _Evanesco._"

Cassius wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a groan as he looked down at his shoes in disgust. What a bloody night.

"You going to be sick again?" asked Montague with a small smirk, as he snatched the glass of water and a napkin from Flint's house elf, who'd appeared with a loud _crack _upon being summoned.

"No," Cassius muttered. "Just didn't eat enough."

"I can tell," his friend replied wryly. "You never get green out."

"Here," said Flint, handing him a glass of some sort of canary yellow liquid. "It'll fix you right up. I use it all the time if I'm... er, up late before practice."

Cassius took the glass from him and eyed it suspiciously. The liquid seemed to be in a constant state of motion, swirling over and over on itself in the glass. He let out another groan, just picturing it churning in his stomach.

"Stop being such a bitch about it," said Montague lightly. "Just drink it. Can't be much worse than hurling, can it?"

_Just drink it. You've already been tortured once. What's a second time?_

**_Fuck off!_**

_Shit. I'm going to puke again._

* * *

There was something terrible about sitting in absolute silence in a flying carriage with three old people who were mad at you, Alicia mused as she stared out of the windows and into the darkness outside. She kept her thoughts to herself as the carriage soared through the night, listening attentively for any cues that might indicate that her grandparents were no longer as furious or disappointed or humiliated as they had been when they'd all left Flint Manor. Unfortunately, her grandmother continued to periodically sigh in cycles of a minute and a half while her great-grandmother continued to _tsk_ in tandem. Her grandfather remained dead silent, though occasionally Alicia felt his gaze flicker towards her before focusing on something else.

Once they arrived at the Villa, granny disappeared straight to her chambers, announcing loudly that she was not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Alicia stood in the corridor and looked awkwardly at her grandmother and grandfather.

"I must say, Alicia," said her grandmother after a moment of silence, ungluing her lips that had been pursed into a thin white line for the duration of the carriage ride, "That had to be the single most embarrassing incident this family has ever experienced, with the exception of your birth -

Alicia flushed in humiliation, felt the blood rush from her heart to her head, and she fought back the urge to scream.

"She tried to _cruciate_ me, grandmother," she spat, clenching her fists in fury.

"You should not have provoked her!" the older woman replied. "Do you have any _idea_ what that family is capable of? _Who_ they are?"

"You could have been seriously hurt," her grandfather added gravely, angrily. "Never you mind the financial and social consequences - you must learn to hold your temper! Out of all the people in that room you chose to brawl with, you chose a _Lestrange_ -

"I know who she is!" Alicia exclaimed. "I know who her father is, who her aunt and uncle are -

"Than you should have restrained yourself! These are dangerous times, Alicia, whether you realize it or not. And people like that - _families_ like that are not people you need to involve yourself with! For merlin's sake, what were you _thinking_? Were you even thinking at all? If there is anything you need to understand, it is this - everything in this Society is based on blood, on _family_, whether you like it or not. Your actions effect both your grandmother and me and it subtracts - quite considerably - from your mother's already tainted reputation. It certainly does you no favours. Let me tell you what the problem is with your generation - none of you have any idea about actions and consequences. You all think you exist in these perfectly isolated little bubbles where your actions have an effect only on you. This isn't true! You think the Lestrange girl won't write to her father telling him about this?"

"It's not like he'll be able to do anything about it!"

"That doesn't matter! For every Death Eater or supporter captured during the War, there are probably three others roaming free."

"So what?" Alicia snapped. "It's not like they're going to go on a let's-hunt-down-Alicia spree. I'm sure they have better things to do with their precious time," she said sarcastically.

"You watch your tone," her grandmother jumped in. "You should be _thanking _us, you horrid child -

"_Thanking_ you? Thanking you for what? You _hate_ me! The only reason I'm even here is because you haven't anybody else! Your own _daughter_ hates you! Look at you! Do you even have friends? All those fake people, smiling and prattling on about how _lovely_ it is to see you, when I bet they were all just talking shit the entire time we were in that damned corridor with bloody old Flint. All you do is put me down, put my parents down - you wish I wasn't even born. Maybe Lestrange should have used an _Avada. _That would have just made your day, I bet. No more _bastard_, right? The only reason you're even angry is because you had to _pay your way out of shame_. Do you even have any idea how ridiculous that sounds? I did everything you bloody asked of me - I danced with all those gold-digging perverts, I laughed and smiled and had stupid, vapid conversations about what material is in for the next goddamn Season. I screwed up once! Actually, I didn't even bloody screw up! Some crazy bitch tried to _torture_ me and my - my _boyfriend_ tried to protect me. I didn't even do anything! And all I get from you is _you horrid child_?! You know what, gran? Thank you. Thank you for showing me that this was a crazy goddamn idea. I never should have come here. Mum was right - you just - you're just plain awful. _Happy_ fucking Christmas by the way. I hope it was a good one."

* * *

Apparating while wearing heels was a terrible idea.

Alicia yanked her foot out of the grass, for the heel of her shoe had been drilled into the soil by her slightly less than perfect landing in the flower beds in front of the owl post office rather than on the sidewalk. She sighed. At least it wasn't snow. If there was one good thing about Avalon it was the perfect climate year-round that she was never really allowed to enjoy because the "sun makes you look _dark_".

She wandered into the postal office, scraping off clumps of dirt against the floor, and walked over to the reception desk. The tired, middle-aged clerk looked at her in shock. Yes, she mused silently, she probably did look a sight in her slightly soiled debutante dress, standing in the dead silent, empty postal office at three in the morning on Yule.

"How may I help you?" the clerk said, staring at her in astonishment.

"One passage by Floo."

"Domestic or international?"

Alicia frowned. Was Avalon to England considered domestic?

"Five sickles to jolly old England or anywhere within Avalon," the clerk drawled. "You can consult the chart if you're headed anywhere else. I'll also need to see some identification."

She fished out five sickles from her clutch as well as her apparition licence and handed it to the clerk, who in exchange handed her a little brown envelope with the words _Floo Powder - Domestic_ written on it.

"Okay, Miss Spinnet, you have yourself a good Christmas," the clerk called out as Alicia walked past the rows of hooting owls towards the two fireplaces off to the side of the room.

"Thanks," she muttered under her breath. "You too. _Berkley House, 47 Bramwood Lane, London_._"_

Alicia shut her eyes as she was sucked up the fireplace, her heard thumping madly against her chest as fireplace after fireplace whipped past her. Suddenly, she felt herself being sucked downwards, and braced herself for her landing.

It never came.

She let out a scream as she felt herself falling into darkness, her limbs reacting to her free-fall by trying to move, but it was like trying to wade through molasses though she fell fast. Suddenly, she stopped falling, and found herself suspended upside-down midair (or what felt like midair - one of her heels had fallen off at some point and she did not hear it land). She found herself now completely immobile, though she was able to move her eyes and mouth. Her eyes were of no use in the obscurity. She made good use of her mouth.

She screamed for what felt like an eternity, though she quickly tired of it, for her dress was now hanging upside down, the layers of silk suffocating her while the blood rushed to her head. She felt tears of fear roll down her cheeks, and wondered what on earth had possessed her to take up Cassius' offer of visiting what he had once referred to as the Mistress House in a past conversation. He was a _Warrington_, and worse, he was the nephew of known Death Eaters. What psychotic trap had she fallen into? But no... nobody could act as well as that - he hadn't set her up... had he?

"_Jesus fucking christ!_"

A blinding light suddenly illuminated the room and she let out a piercing scream as the free-fall suddenly continued. Was this Death? Was this the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel that everybody talked about?

She landed softly on her bare feet, her other shoe lost in the process of falling again, and she let out a scream when she felt somebody grab her from behind.

"Stop, Alicia - fuck, babe, it's me -

"Let me go!" she shrieked, gasping for air as though she were being choked. She let out a strangled sob when she was forcibly turned around, and Cassius stared down at her, eyes blazing with rage.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" she shouted, half blinded by her tears. She looked around her for the first time and found herself standing in a small windowless, doorless room - a _cell_.

"It was my fault," he said hoarsely, gripping her tightly by the shoulders. "I just got home - it was my fault, I - this house is protected - if Tally hadn't told me -

His grip loosened and he ran a hand through his hair, his face expressing his frustration and anger.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "I - to be honest, I don't really know this house completely yet. I should have known. I should have _fucking_ known something like this -

"What the hell is it?" she snapped, wiping angrily at her tears. "And get me the fuck out of here - this - this is _sick - _

Cassius nodded quickly, apologetically, and took her by the hand. She flinched at his touch, and his eyes flickered momentarily before his face took on its usual neutral expression.

"You need to touch me to get through," he said briskly, his voice back to normal, though still rough as though he were sick. He took her by the hand again, firmly, and walked through the wall. It was like going to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

The other side of the wall led to a large finished room with a dark, gleaming wooden floor and low ceilings. There was no indication whatsoever of a fucked up holding chamber being at the other side of the magnificent mirror behind them. It was like any other living room or whatever it was. She noticed the bar at the other side of the room.

"My shoes," she said suddenly, remembering that she was barefoot.

Cassius held out his other hand, and she noticed for the first time that he was holding her little white heels.

"They look like they hurt," he said curtly, before leading up a small fight of stairs. "And for the record, I wasn't expecting that to happen. I really didn't know about that... room. Tally - my house elf - told me that there was an intruder when I got home. I - to be honest, I sort of forgot you were - that I'd told you to come."

"And that happens _every _time?" Alicia said in a deadpan voice.

"Er, no. There's this book where I have to write in the names of anybody who's allowed to get past the usual wards, and the date and time that they're allowed to breach them. Right now it's just me, my father and Graham -

"_Your father_?" Alicia exclaimed, horrified.

"I just took him off for tonight - today," said Cassius hastily as he led her into the main floor of the house. "Like I said... I sort of forgot you were - well, yeah."

"You forgot? You fucking _forgot_? What if you dad was here - Cassius, you fucktard -

"I bloody said I was sorry didn't I!" he said heatedly.

"What if -

"What if, what if, what if," he said impatiently. "He wasn't here, alright, so let's just get over it -

"I thought I was going to _die, _you insensitive git!"

Cassius stopped and turned to glare frostily at her, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well you didn't, alright? Let's just move past this, I've had a bloody shitty enough night as it is -

"_You've_ had a shitty night?" she echoed in disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Don't push me right now," he responded coldly. "If all you're going to do is bitch at me about how fucking _terrible_ your night's been, then just go home. You don't even know the meaning of the word terrible, so just stop. I need to take a shower. You can stay or go. Quite frankly at this point, I'm starting not to care."

"You _arse_ -

"By the way, the hem of your dress is filthy."

Alicia threw her shoes at him as he walked away.

"Go home, Alicia," he called out as he went up the stairs, "I'm bad news."

"Fuck you, Cassius."

* * *

The scalding water was soothing, and Cassius groaned as he felt his muscles relax for the first time in forty-eight hours. The last two days at the Manor had been hell, what with both his parents hanging about, questioning his every thought and movement. Somehow, over the past few days he'd come to grow quite attached to Berkley house - much more so than he'd ever thought possible. It jarred him to think that he didn't quite know all of it's secrets yet.

What if his father had been home... the thought swirled around in his mind over and over again, and he hissed as he turned the faucet so that the water temperature rose a few more degrees.

It was too much of a close call. He was an idiot. He'd been drinking too much lately. Smoking had thrown him over the edge. He hadn't greened out since fourth year, but then again, he hadn't been drinking like a fish at the time either...

How could he have forgotten? He should have known there was some sort of fucked up security measure to deal with intruders. It was a good thing that the end result hadn't been tragic... the Big House in France had a very special sort of punishment to deal with intruders.

He was an idiot. A fucking idiot. She could have been hurt, or killed, or worse. He shuddered at the thought of his father stumbling upon her in that room, suspended upside down, the skirt of her dress hanging by her head, legs and white lace panties and garters out for all to see.

He felt a shudder of lust rush through him for a second before his thoughts were sobered by the realization that indeed, his father could have popped by at any time, only to have come across her.

God, was he ever sore. His entire body screamed for rest. Alicia had probably gone home, and bed was only a few feet away... He shut his eyes and massaged his temples as he stepped out of the shower and onto the fluffy mat. He smiled inwardly at the feeling. It was always one of his little pleasures, that fresh just-out-of-the-shower feeling, followed by the first step onto the soft bathmat. He wiggled his toes, almost happily.

* * *

She was sound asleep.

Cassius stared down at her, astonished by the sight of this dishevelled looking princess on his bed with soles blackened from walking about barefoot. Her white silk dress was crumpled like any old t shirt, the hem torn and dirty, and her face streaked with mascara and dried tears. She clutched her shoes and gloves still in one hand.

He swallowed hard, uncertain of how to react.

"Alicia," he said loudly.

She let out a groan, but did not stir.

He approached the bed and looked down at her prone figure.

"You're just a mess," he mumbled to himself. He found himself plucking her shoes out of her hand and tossing them on the floor next to her bed. She shifted, but her eyes remained closed.

He ran his hand over her head and began to pluck out the the tiny little pearls in her hair one by one. They'd been held up by the sheer force of magic, but slipped away as easily as though he were plucking at thin air. She let out a small sigh, and he ran his hand down her bare shoulders until he reached the lace-up back of the bodice. He licked his dry lips, frowning absentmindedly at the tang of blood, and steeled himself for what came next. He tugged gently on the bow and the bodice loosened up as she breathed in gently, deeply in her sleep.

It occurred to him then that she might not like the fact that he was in the process of undressing her, and his hand hesitated for a moment over her back. He slid it back up to her shoulder and he gave her a gentle shake. She let out a groan again, mumbling something in coherent, before rolling onto her side and curling up into a little ball. Cassius felt himself stiffen as her dress slipped down a touch when she rolled over, just barely revealing one of her high round breasts to his exhausted eyes.

"Alicia," he said in a strangled voice, shaking her more roughly this time after pulling up her bodice. She would probably kill him if she awoke with her dress pooled by her waist. "Alicia. Wake up - _  
_

"Urgh, not now mum -

"It's Cassius," he said, shaking her again.

Her eyes peeled open slowly, and she blinked at the lights, eying him in confusion.

"Cassius - what the -

She sat up suddenly and her hands flew up to her chest when she realized that her dress was undone. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of him, standing in front of her in nothing but his boxers.

"You fell asleep," he explained guiltily, which was a foreign emotion. She stared at him like he was an idiot and he felt a flush creep up his neck. Her eyes widened.

"You're blushing!" she exclaimed. "You're actually blushing -

"Fuck off," he muttered.

"No, this is - this is news! I don't think I've ever seen you express more than three emotions before - why were you undressing me anyway? So what if I fell asleep? Trying to cop a feel, were you?" She yawned and flopped down onto her back, still clutching the front of her dress against her chest, though a small smile tugged at her lips.

"I thought you were mad at me," he commented, noticing the smile.

"I am - I _was_," she said. "But... you're right. It's not like you meant for that to happen. And... well, yeah. I didn't come here to fight with you."

This time, she blushed, and Cassius gave her a small, tired grin.

"So why did you come then? You love arguing with me," he replied seriously, looking down at her. Her eyes were shut, and she looked to be once again at peace.

"I fought with my grandparents," she said after a moment of silence.

He frowned. She opened her eyes and smirked at him.

"I guess I came for you too."

"Hah," he snorted, poking her in the side. "Not with those feet, you didn't."

"What's wrong with my - oh."

"Oh," he echoed with a mocking grin. He yawned, but reached down and scooped her into his arms like a small child while she squealed in protest.

"Stop kicking or I'll drop you," he said seriously as he stood up and looked down at her. She stared into his eyes, looking terrified for a brief moment before her face relaxed. "You know I'd never drop you," he said quietly as he carried her towards the bathroom.

"I really did think I was going to die," she mumbled, shutting her eyes again as he kicked open the bathroom door. "When I was falling I mean."

He felt a tight knot deep inside his chest, but he brushed it away and looked back down at her dirty tear-stained face.

"I won't let that happen either," he said in a strained voice, recalling the night's events as though it were some sort of drug-fuelled dream. He set her down and she smiled as she looked around the bathroom.

"Nice place," she said, running her hand over the marble countertop as she held up her dress with the other. "And it's all yours?"

_It could be yours_.

He nodded stiffly.

She turned around and looked at him shyly.

"I look like a witch," she said, sounding embarrassed. He looked at her in confusion.

"You are a witch," he replied, frowning.

She giggled.

"Oh that's right. Sometimes I forget that you're a... a pure blood."

They both fell silent and she looked away, biting her lower lip slightly.

"I didn't mean that in a bad way," she said awkwardly.

"I know," he replied, a cold feeling suddenly seizing his heart as his father's face loomed in his mind.

He walked past her without looking at her and stood by the tub.

"Bath or shower?"

"Here?" she said sounding surprised. "Now?"

"No offense," he said lightly, "But you look like shit."

She whacked him on the back, and he winced.

"Circe, I forget you play Quidditch sometimes," he muttered.

"Well don't you forget it," she replied snottily. "Ooh, that smells lovely - I love lavender."

"You should come to France with me sometime," he said absentmindedly as the water in the tub rose steadily higher. "There's lavender all around my house in Aix."

She looked back at him, a funny expression on her face, and he held his breath, realizing the stupidity of his comment. Of course she would not come to France with him. How could she? She was Alicia Spinnet, and he was Cassius Warrington, and all this was one bloody stupid dream.

He turned around violently and stared stormily at the rising water, willing his mind to think of nothing but the smell of lavender bubble bath. It took him a minute to realize that the shower had been turned on. He looked over his shoulder to see what she was up to and his mouth went terribly, terribly dry.

He looked down at her dress, which was crumpled in a heap by the sink where she'd been standing a minute earlier. His gaze quickly traveled to the shower, and through the opaque glass he could make out her naked form, could actually see the silhouette of her hands ghosting over herself as she indulged in the steaming water rising out of the top of the shower stall.

"What are you doing?" he croaked out.

"I didn't want to get the bath all dirty with my feet," she said in an equally unusual tone. "Turn around. I'm going to come out now."

Cassius raised an eyebrow.

"It's not like I haven't seen it all before," he deadpanned, recalling the locker room incident when she'd dropped the shower curtain at her feet, revealing herself to him for the first time.

"This is different," she explained. "I'm - I'm _washing _myself." _  
_

"Then what's the point of a bath?"

"Men," she huffed. "A bath is for relaxing -

"You realize it's nearly three in the morning."

"Well I'm wide awake."

"I'm not turning around."

"Then I'm not coming out."

"You can't stay there all night, you know."

"I can too."

"So you're telling me you came all this way for a shower."

"It was _your_ idea - I look like shit, remember?"

He slid open the glass door as she shrieked in surprise, rushing to cover herself with her hands.

"No, you don't," he said in hoarse voice as he looked at her wet figure, half blinded by desire.

"Cassius," she breathed.

"You're beautiful," he said harshly, angrily. "You're fucking beautiful."

_And I can't have you_.

He slammed the glass door shut, his hand shaking with rage.

"_FUCK!_"

* * *

**Questions? Comments? **

**Did Cassius seem a little out of character to you guys? I think I just felt weird writing him as being so.. human I guess lol because Alicia's usually the emotional one, but you all let me know how you feel. **

**PS**

**I'm evil, I know. You all totally thought they were going to get it on! **

**Maybe next time?! **

**READ AND REVIEW! **

**XOXO**


	19. Chapter 19 - Rated M

**Thanks to Sibel88, housepower, Veraani, NC, Stromsten, Supergirl818 and Etoile Black for the reviews. Y'all make my day! **

**I will try to explain the trap in the house in some other chapter - Cassius himself only just discovered it. But basically, it's just an illusion charm that gave Alicia the impression of being trapped in a ****free fall, which was why the room turned out to be a small cell, though she was suspended upside-down midair. The falling-bit and the darkness was the illusion. **

**As for typos... I know, I'm bad. I've gotten lazy with editing recently but I'll work on it!**

**I suppose I could include other people's POVs, but generally I find myself getting confused when I read stories with too many perspectives. But I'll try to include more minor characters to give them more speaking roles, I can definitely do that. **

**As usual, read and REVIEW! I'm glad so many of you have favourited/followed the story but it'd be nice to hear some more feedback! Thanks to my reviewers who always have my back though! XOXO **

**PS **

**Hope this chapter isn't too... er, smutty for smut's sake. I hate stories like that. Again, critiques are always welcome! **

* * *

She found him sitting in the living room, still in his boxers, staring blankly into the lit fireplace, puffing out blue rings of smoke as he rhythmically brought his cigarette to his lips. He swirled around a mug of something steaming in his other hand. Tea, judging by the smell. She almost smiled. She hadn't seen him swig anything but whiskey for about a month... She glanced around the room as she walked in, and noticed that the wallpaper was actually a giant family tree, just like the living room at her grandparents' place.

She sat down next to him on the impossibly expensive looking antique upholstered sofa and stared into the fire, pretending that she was all alone. He didn't bother to address her. She thought of Gryffindor common room, and the number of times she stayed up late just to think before the fireplace. How was it that she was now sitting here, in this foreign place so far away from everything she knew? She had changed, she mused, in four months. She feared it wasn't necessarily for the better.

"Tally's set up the guest bedroom for you," he said once he put out his cigarette, and he forced himself to pretend that she wasn't looking at him with hurt in her eyes.

"The guest bedroom," she echoed blankly, turning to look directly at him for the first time.

He swallowed thickly. She was wearing his clothes, had obviously gone through his wardrobe and had picked out the same _Falcolns _t-shirt he'd tossed at her that night she'd stayed with him in the Slytherin dormitory earlier on in the year. What kind of game was she playing at? He shut his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. Merlin's balls, he thought angrily, she even smelled like him. She'd obviously skipped out on the bath and had decided to come after him, still smelling like his soap, the soap she'd used to wipe her face clean of tears when he'd slammed the shower door in her face like a complete prick.

"Fuck you, Cassius," she said suddenly, violently like she used to before they were... whatever they were, but her body conveyed exhaustion and wariness. She looked at him again, this time straight in the eye, and he caught some sort of visible change in her expression, something he couldn't quite place. "Maybe we really should stop seeing each other."

He turned away from her and sipped his tea.

Circe, how many times had they already been through this? They weren't even bloody going out, he thought viciously. They were getting to be worse than Parkinson and Malfoy, who were notoriously on-and-off, sometimes breaking up and making up several times in one day.

Suddenly and quite simultaneously, they both burst into laugher, a terribly quiet and hollow sort of thing that chilled his blood. _We're so fucked_, he wanted to say, but the whole situation went beyond that. She stood up after they fell silent, and he choked on his tea when he saw that she'd knicked a pair of his boxers. She looked down at him and gave him a small shrug. _  
_

"I, er, left my things in your room," she said hesitantly. "I suppose I'll just go and fetch them."

"Right," he said, feeling stupid. He stood up and followed her out of the room and into the corridor, and grimaced as he felt a dozen pair of eyes watching him from the walls.

"Is this the new mistress of the house, then?" one of them asked, a witch by the name of Elizabeth Jacobs who had been the mistress of a great-great-great-great uncle.

Cassius flinched at the word mistress.

"What in the world is she wearing?" one of the other portraits exclaimed in horror as they made their way up the stairs.

"Hmph," another one crowed. "In _my_ day we women were treated with all the finery in the world."

Cassius glared at the portrait of his great-grandfather's mistress, a frosty blonde with an upturned nose who looked suspiciously like a Malfoy. Probably a Malfoy bastard, he thought cruelly. The portrait sneered back at him, before glancing at Alicia, who'd paused to look back at Cassius who'd stopped mid-step.

"You should have a little more self-respect," said the portrait of the blonde to Alicia in what was probably meant to be an sympathetic voice, before glaring at Cassius out of the corner of her eye. "This one looks to have inherited his father's cheapness. Didn't even bother to have a portrait commissioned of his last mistress, that one!"

Cassius opened his mouth to retort, but Alicia beat him to it. She marched down towards the half-way landing where Cassius was standing, and glared at the portrait of the loud-mouthed blonde.

"You shut your mouth," she said icily. "You don't know anything about me and you certainly don't know anything about him. And Cassius isn't _cheap_. And I'm not his bloody mistress, nor will I ever be, so you can shove that up your lovely, _refined_ ass which I'm sure was once adorned in rubies and sapphires, you great hag."

"Not his mistress?" the portrait retorted haughtily without missing a beat. "You're just a common whore, then. Well I won't waste another breath on _you_ -

"Shut your mouth," said Cassius coldly, "Or I'll move your portrait to the attic. Permanently."

"I can still move about you know," she replied.

"Then I'll cut you out of your frame and burn you," he replied.

"Just like your mother," the portrait sighed. "Not even original enough to come up with your own threats."

Cassius' eyes flashed angrily, and the portrait smirked at him.

"What, think we portraits don't have a memory? I remember that great bitch storming up these stairs, screaming her head off. Don't you, Carmelita?"

Cassius looked up at the last portrait on the wall, scowling darkly at the memory of his mother dragging him up the stairs, threatening the portrait of his grandfather's one-time mistress. Carmelita Gonzalez... Cassius remembered meeting her once as a child, remembered the cold, hushed argument between his father and grandfather when the four of them had run into each other on a muggle street quite by accident. It occurred to him as he looked at all the portraits of young and nubile Warrington mistresses-past that they were all now dead and buried. _Long_ dead and buried, some of them. And here he was, arguing with the portrait of some bitch one of his ancestors had shagged in the last century.

He turned away from the portrait, shaking his head in disgust, and led Alicia up the rest of the stairs in silence.

She walked past him once they reached the second floor landing, and he followed her into his bedroom, ignoring the sparring voices in his head. The smell of lavender wafted into his nose from the bathroom. He peeked into the bathroom, and watched as Alicia gathered her things from the floor. She cursed, for she'd splashed water onto her dress in her haste to chase Cassius down after his little... episode.

She stood up straight and turned to look at him, an awkward, forced smile on her face.

"So," she said in a horrible, fake cheery voice, "Where's the guest bedroom?"

He led her out of the bathroom and opened the door next to it. She let out a low whistle, examining the white-carpeted floor and the lovely four-poster bed with sheer curtains that contrasted with the burgundy and mahogany of Cassius' room.

"Fancy stuff," she said, wandering over to the bed and running her hands over the sheets. Cassius rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, somewhat embarrassed by her admiration of what looked to him like a normal room.

"Well," she said, turning to look at him with a fake smile plastered onto her face. "Good night."

"Good morning," he replied, and instantly regretted it because he sounded like an utter twat. She snorted at the terrible joke, and glanced out the window. It was still pitch dark out, and her body suddenly felt the weight of having been up for nearly twenty-four hours straight.

"Right. Well. Er, good morning," she muttered, feeling stupid.

He nodded stiffly and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. A second later, it opened again and he mumbled, "Just knock or summon Tally if you need anything." He shut the door quickly before she could say reply.

After he left, it took Alicia about five seconds to realize that there was no way she was going to be able to stay inside this house a second longer. It felt surreal to be lying on Cassius' ridiculously plush guest bed, separated from him by a door, staring up at the white curtains pretending that everything was okay when it was not. She needed to go home. She was in London now. She could floo, or take the Knight Bus, or flag down a cab - but she would not and could not stay here for one more second.

For some reason as she slipped on her stockings and garters, she thought about Carson, and she wanted to crawl into a hole and die because she was a terrible, terrible person. She hadn't thought about him all night, not since he'd brawled with Cassius at the ball, and as she put on her shoes, she realized that something would have to give. And right now it looked like she and Cassius were done for good. But what if they weren't? They'd been through this breaking-up thing several times already, and each time they'd come running back to each other, unable to keep away. On the other hand, it wasn't like they were going to be able to keep on seeing each other once school started up again... the project was over and NEWTs were less than six months away and she could only push Carson off for so long before he'd get suspicious over why she didn't want to sleep with him. If she didn't break it off with Cassius now, he certainly would initiate then. As much as Montague had hinted about Cassius being the... sharing type, she somehow couldn't imagine him being delighted with the idea of her hopping from Carson's bed to his and back. Not that she was any more for it. Worse, she couldn't just break up with Carson either... he was a good bloke, he'd taken her to Yule, he'd helped her in school, and he genuinely liked her and she him. Sometimes she felt so close to him it was like Cassius didn't exist - but then the second Cassius came within sight, her double life came back to haunt her, like the incident on the Hogwarts Express.

It was time to end this farce, she thought determinedly as she picked up her clutch and stuffed her gloves inside it. Cassius had done the right thing in sending her to the guest room. He'd recognized them for what they were - a huge, unsolvable problem, the mistake of the century. Well, at least the millennium was just around the corner, she thought wryly.

She had to go home. She would crawl into her own bed, surrounded by her own things, and in the morning she would write to Carson and she would do things right by him. He didn't deserve her. She was scum, and if he never found out about Cassius, she would be the luckiest girl in the world with the kindest, most perfect boyfriend the universe could have ever provided.

She folded Cassius' tshirt and boxers and held them with one hand. Cringing slightly, she eyed her dirty knickers and wondered if she could get away without having to put them back on... her dress was floor-length, it wasn't like anybody would notice... But if there happened to be a draft outside, should she be forced to hail a cab... Or if she had an apparition mishap... They didn't look bad or anything... She shrugged and slipped them back on. There were worse things in life.

Last but not least, she stepped into her dress and dragged it up her body. She held up the front against her chest and took one last look around the room. Pity. It was lovely, really, like a hotel suite. If it weren't for the circumstances, she would have loved to stay the night.

She yawned unhappily before gathering the courage to knock on his door. She steeled her nerves for their confrontation as she waited for him to answer. After a moment of silence, she heard him call out, "Door's unlocked."

"Warrington," she said crisply as she marched as confidently into his room as possible. He looked at her in surprise from his bed, his eyes flashing as his last name tumbled out of her mouth. "I'm going home," she announced as she approached him. She hitched up her dress a little higher and looked away from him, distracted by his near nakedness and the unnerving burn of his gaze, so unwavering and unrevealing. He was irritated that she'd called him Warrington, that much she could gather, but he'd shut down after that. He seemed not to care that she was going to leave - he had yet to move from his bed, and his hands were still propped up behind his head. It was like she'd announced it was dark outside - he had absolutely nothing to say. Good, she thought. _Better that way._ She dropped his clothes unceremoniously onto the foot of his bed.

"I just need you to lace up the back," she said as professionally as she could, turning around so that he could see the flapping back of her dress. "Then I'll be on my way."

She watched him through the large mirrors that hid his wardrobe, and held her breath as he finally shifted from the bed. He placed an old-looking tome that had been on his lap onto the bedside table, and slowly made his way over to her. He caught her eye in the mirror, his expression stony.

"How are you getting home?" he practically growled, and she felt a shiver crawl down her spine as his hands brushed against her bare back as he reached for the satin laces. She felt her mouth go dry when his fingertips stroked her skin every few seconds as he threaded the laces up the back of the dress.

"Floo," she managed to spit out, trying to keep her voice neutral and confident. She let out a harsh breath when he tugged on the laces, bringing the bodice together, his eyes watching her through the mirror. Her face was flushed, her breathing terribly erratic, and she desperately wanted to go home before it was too late. But of course it was too late, it had been too late the second she'd made the stupid decision to come to this house. They always played this stupid push-and-pull game. She could have easily summoned Tally to do up her laces and she could have just as easily left his house without alerting him of her absence until the morning. She felt a rush of heat pump through her veins when one of his hands skimmed her shoulder blades to brush her hair out of the way so that he could tie the laces without tying her hair with them. His expression darkened, his pupils growing wide as his fingers skimmed her collarbones when he pushed her hair over her shoulders with his free hand, and Alicia watched him lick his lips through the mirror. He stared back at her as though he might devour her.

"Every fucking time," he ground out harshly, and she let out a soft cry when he released the laces of her dress. With one sharp inhale, she felt the laces come flying apart, and the hand that had been on her shoulder slipped down her side and cupped her breast while the other violently tugged the dress down, past her waist until it pooled itself at her feet. "Fucking hell," he choked, staring at her through the mirror, unable to help himself.

She was naked waist up, as he'd known she'd been, her small round breasts having been held up by the bodice of the dress. But below... he'd forgotten about her lace knickers and white garters and those nude stockings that he knew she'd been wearing because when he'd released her from the trap room downstairs, she'd been suspended upside down, legs in the air. Her hair was down now, still somewhat damp from her impromptu shower, and she smelled like him and looked so fucking sexy and it was beyond the most intoxicating thing he'd ever had the pleasure of witnessing, even if all she was doing was standing there, held firmly in place by his grip on her waist and on her breast.

"Why the hell," he managed to say as he began to kiss her on the back of the neck, "Are you wearing garters?"

"Hose is ugly," she squealed as he dragged his teeth across her shoulder.

His eyes flashed, and she froze under his reflection's gaze.

"And who were you planning on showing these off to?" he demanded heatedly, tugging on one of the garters and snapping it against her skin. She gasped out his name, and he smiled possessively at her.

"And how did you know that you were going to see me?" he asked as he gave her nipple a rough tweak. She let out a beautiful moan, and Cassius pushed his hips against her to meet her lace-covered bottom.

"I didn't!" she gasped, "My gran said you can't wear ugly underthings under a pretty dress."

"Smart woman," he said as his hand dipped below the waistline of her panties. He hissed out a string of curses as smooth instead of the usual shaven flesh met his callused hand, the tips of his fingers skimming a pool of moisture.

She let out a gasp of disappointment when he suddenly pulled away from her and stepped back. She turned around, covering herself in embarrassment, and bent down to grab her dress, utterly humiliated and enraged.

"Alicia -

"_Fuck _you," she snarled.

"You're so impatient," he said in a low, scolding tone, grabbing her by the arm to force her up.

"Let _go_ of me!"

He took her by both arms and forced her to look at him.

"I want you to touch yourself."

The room fell dead silent, and Alicia felt the bright red spots of anger on her cheek join the flush of embarrassment that suddenly took over her from chest-up. He looked down at her, amusement tugging on his lips. He backed away from her and sank down onto the lone armchair that was parked by the window, his eyes dark, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. Had she heard correctly? He couldn't actually be _serious_. And yet there he was, sprawled out so elegantly on his chair, watching her as though he were waiting for some kind of show.

"You're mad," she breathed, clutching her dress to her chest even tighter in a protective gesture.

"And you're looking sexy as hell," he snorted. "So if this is going to be the last time, might as well make the most of it."

The last time.

The words hang heavily in the air.

Yet how many times had they said that?

Just about every time, after every kiss, after every time they met. _Just this once__, we'll stop after this - _yeah right.

"I'm not doing it," she said stubbornly, her nose upturned.

"You'll do it," he said in a low voice, with a cheshire grin, "And afterwards, I'm going to fuck your brains out. You won't walk straight for a week. You'll never forget me, Spinnet. I'm going to do bad, bad things to you."

"And you'll never forget me, Warrington," she retorted hotly, suddenly blinking back tears.

He looked at her sharply, and for a second she saw a ghost of sadness flicker across his face. Then, just as quickly, he flashed her a dark grin, waving his hand imperiously before him, gesturing at her to begin.

"I can't," she said softly.

"You can," he replied. "I know you can. You don't think I forgot all about that book of yours, do you?"

The Book.

Good lord, how could she have forgotten? The thing that had started it all. She stared at him, eyes wide, remembering how he'd teased her, flicking through the book, taking in it's filthy contents. Reading it out lout to her in the stairwell where anybody could have heard.

Detention. They'd gotten detention for being late.

Their first civil conversation.

Four months. It had only been four months ago.

"Dungeons."

She blinked, brought back to earth by the sound of his gravelly voice.

"What?"

He looked at her pointedly, a small smirk on his face.

"I said you had a thing for dungeons. A lot of... bondage going on in those stories."

She flushed in embarrassment, and he let out one of his rare laughs.

"If it helps," he said, "I'll do it to."

She looked at him for a second in confusion, and made a face when comprehension dawned on her, squealing in disgust.

"Ew, I don't want to watch you - do _that_!"

"Do what, _masturbate_? Say it with me, babe -

"Cassius!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, you can read about it but you can't call it for what it is?" he said mockingly.

He stood up, and she screeched as he suddenly lunged forward and tackled her, tossing her onto his bed, his fingers wiggling as they reached out to tickle her sides.

"Cassius! S-stop! No m-more!"

"More? You want more? Well why didn't you say so?"

"N-no!" she wailed, laughing so hard that it hurt, "N-no more!"

She laughed hysterically as he held her down with his weight, one of his hands pinning her hands down against the mattress while the other made its way up her side, until he was tickling her armpits.

"Say it, babe - _masturbate_ -

"N-no!"

"Well, I guess I can't stop!"

"Oh god, it hurts!"

"_Masturbate_," he repeated with a big teasing grin, enunciating each syllable for her.

"Alright! Alright, s-stop! M-MASTURBATE! God, you're such an arse!" she said, giggling even after his fingers came to a halt.

His hand slid away from her side, but he kept her pinned to the bed, his hands joining hers, and she looked up at him as their fingers intertwined. She blushed as his eyes traveled from her navel to her breasts, lingering for a moment before meeting her gaze. She let out a small gasp as she felt his stiffness against her when he shifted over her. He groaned as she bumped up her hips.

She sighed in relief when he bent down to kiss her, and he rolled them over until he was lying on his back, while she straddled his waist and looked down at him.

"Come here," he groaned, dragging her down for a kiss. "Now go stand over there and give me a show," he demanded with a grin, shoving her off of him with a playful push.

He watched silently as she reluctantly crawled off the bed and crossed her arms over her chest like a petulant child.

"No."

"You mean yes," he said smoothly as he followed her off the bed and plopped himself back down on the armchair. He smirked at her knowingly. "Anyway, you wouldn't have gotten off the bed if you didn't want to do it so _really_, you're just being difficult and -

His voice trailed off as she suddenly flashed him an embarrassed but sultry look, if such a thing were even possible, while she ran a perfect manicured finger over her knickers before slipping it under the elastic.

"_Fuuuuuck_," Cassius hissed as he watched part of her hand disappear under the lacy fabric.

"Like that?" she whispered.

"Like that," he groaned as she let out a high whimper. "Take off your knickers - no, slowly - slower than that. That's it. Turn around and bend over while you take them off."

He gripped himself tightly, his left hand stroking himself while his right hand gripped the armchair as she peeked at him from over her shoulder, shimmying out of her knickers.

"Anyone ever tell you you've got a great arse?"

"Yeah, you. All the time," she said snottily, and he smiled to himself. Now _there_ was Alicia the lioness.

"Fuck, you look hot," he muttered, mostly to himself, his eyes glued to the white garters that held up her stockings. She was quite nude otherwise, and he'd never seen anything so fabulous.

She turned around shyly, and was startled to find that he was touching himself. _Masturbating_, she thought, giggling out loud.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

"Nothing," she replied quickly, suddenly realizing that she was now utterly naked except for the garter belt, her stockings and shoes. She flushed under his heated gaze, but obeyed him with only a slight hesitation when he beckoned her over towards him.

She stepped in between his legs, covering herself despite his apparent irritation with the fact.

"Why so modest?" he asked mockingly. "On the floor, beautiful."

She swallowed hard, every nerve in her body on fire as Cassius stood up and forced her to sink down to the floor when she hadn't budged immediately. She found herself on her knees, and he gently slid his foot between her knees and ordered her to separate them.

"Sit up," he growled, and she found herself quick to obey. He hummed in pleasure.

"Not such a mouthy little Gryffindor now, are you?" he said with a small, smug grin of satisfaction. Suddenly, she gave him a dark look, a familiar look that he was used to seeing on her during a Quidditch game, and he let out a string of swear words as he watched her lean back onto one hand and pleasure herself with the other. She looked up at him triumphantly, even as she writhed under the work of her own hand. He tightened his strokes as she licked her lips in concentration.

"You think you're such a big, bad Slytherin? You think you can boss me around?" she said, meeting his gaze. "I'll have you know that I'm just _letting you_ -

"O-ho," he said in a low voice, "_Letting_ me? I don't _think_ I can boss you around, sweetheart, I know I can," Cassius replied, bending over and snapping her garter against her thigh. She let out a squeal, and he smirked at the angry red mark that appeared on her skin.

Suddenly, he had enough. It'd been too long. He'd been too patient. He'd tortured himself enough. He'd watched her dance about all night, so tempting and terribly out of reach in her lovely dress. He'd spent too many drunken nights in bed alone, hand down his pants as he pretended he wasn't thinking of her. He'd already told her in a moment of folly that he'd loved her. She'd as good as told him the same thing back in the music room at Hogwarts all those nights ago. There was nothing left to be said between them anymore. This was it, the Last Night. And he'd just about had it with waiting.

He slid down from the armchair and bent forward until he could kiss the inside of her thighs. She slid a hand into his hair, and he drew the other one into his mouth, groaning at the taste of her. She cried out his name, wailing obscenities as he leaned forward to lick her swollen, glistening nub while sliding his thumb into her core.

He scooped her up into his arms before she could come and roughly tossed her onto the bed despite her angry protests at having been denied an orgasm. She looked up at him, and he ordered her to stay put as he quickly cast a contraceptive charm before crawling onto the bed over her. He slid into her without warning in one fluid movement, and Cassius groaned as she bucked wildly against him, her legs locked around his waist as she forced him to pound into her as she came.

"Already?" he gasped as he pulled out of her and turned her over onto her knees. She looked at him over her shoulder to say something, but let out a moan instead as he slid into her again.

He didn't let up until it was six o'clock, and was convinced that he might not ever have children if they continued.

* * *

When Alicia awoke, there was light streaming in through the windows, and she was terribly alone. It took her a moment to realize that the large bed she found herself in was not in fact her bed at the Villa, but was rather Cassius' bed in his... family home for Warrington mistresses.

The word left a sour tang in the back of her throat.

_Mistress__._

She was his bloody mistress.

She looked around the room, and found it utterly devoid of personality. Cassius' school trunk was pushed up against the wall, and she recalled that his wardrobe had been rather empty, obviously only containing whatever had been inside of his trunk. He'd probably only just moved in, she thought, as she crawled out of the bed.

She walked over to his desk, and examined the books with curiosity. They were old tomes, handwritten, some of them in French, some of them even in old French. One of them was familiar, a newer book that Alicia was unfortunately well-acquainted with due to the time she'd spent with it while researching for the project. She glanced at the neat pile of parchment with Cassius' writing on it.

Blood magic. He was researching blood magic. But why? Their project was over, along with their relationship. Speaking of which, where were her clothes? She had to get home, her parents were probably frantic if her grandparents had the decency to inform them that Alicia had run away.

She dropped his notes, just as the door swung open, and Cassius sauntered in carrying a glass of orange juice. He froze when he saw her standing by his desk.

"What are you doing?" he barked, striding over to her, visibly angry. She glared at him, startled, as he reached past her and snatched the stack of parchment of his desk.

"Nothing! What crawled up your arse and died?"

She looked up at him fearfully when he suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him, his eyes blazing.

"What did you see?"

"Nothing!" she spat angrily. "Get off me, how _dare _you -

_She was going to be late. She was going to be late, and the girls would kill her, never __mind that killing her would defeat the purpose of seeing her after all those months she'd been in school. She hunched herself forward, bracing herself against the cold as she drew further into her coat while a gust of wind raged past her. Suddenly, a man walking past her in the opposite direction grabbed her by the shoulder, his grip firm and unrelenting as his gaze bore into her eyes while he groped her chest for a moment, before walking on as though nothing had happened, leaving her to stare at his retreating back, frozen by fear and horror and disbelief._

Cassius stared down at Alicia's crumpled face in horror, and anger surged through him as he recalled what he had just witnessed. She stared blankly at him, her gaze cold and shuttered, and he let out a grunt of pain as her palm suddenly connected with his face.

"You _bastard_," she breathed, her voice tight and enraged. "You're a legillimens - I - I -

"Alicia -

She shoved him hard, just like she did during Quidditch, and Cassius let out another grunt as the glass shattered in his hand from the force of his grip. He called after her, his heart clenching painfully as she stormed naked around the room in search of her belongings, furious tears leaking out of her eyes as she brushed them away in rage.

"Fuck you!" she screamed, hurling a shoe at him. "_Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you - __  
_

She threw open the mirrored doors that revealed his wardrobe, and yanked out her dress that hung next to his dress robes. She whirled around, almost sensing his approach, and gave him another violent shove.

"_Get the fuck away from me_," she shrieked. "How _dare _you, how fucking _dare you_ - I could _kill_ you - Oh god." She broke down into a sob and turned away from him, crumpling onto the floor like a broken rag doll.

He'd fucked up. He'd royally fucked up.

"I'm sorry," he croaked helplessly, and she let out a string of insults that he undoubtedly deserved.

"How _could_ you," she gasped, looking at him for the first time. "You bastard, how fucking long have you been doing that to me? How could you, how _could_ you -

"I haven't -

"How do I know that?" she shouted furiously.

"Because I fucking _suck_!" he snapped. "If I wasn't so fucking _shite_ at it, you think that would have happened? You wouldn't have even noticed - "

"That doesn't excuse the fact! Do you have any idea how it feels, to have somebody just tear your mind apart -

"Yeah, actually, I fucking do," Cassius snarled.

She gave him a strange look and he swallowed.

"Then you shouldn't have done it to me, if you know how it feels to be - to be _violated_ like that," she said quietly, unevenly as she hiccoughed through her tears.

"I'm sorry," he replied gravely, angrily, furious with himself for his foolishness. _Violated__. _The word made him feel like a monster, and his heart shrivelled inside his chest at the way she looked up at him, as though he were nothing. _Violated_. She felt violated. She probably felt worse now than when the sonofabitch from her memory had come out and groped her. He clenched his teeth in rage. At least the man had been a stranger, some fucking bum on the street. But he hadn't meant to - he'd done it out of panic, without thinking - if she found out about Florrie and Evan... And now she felt violated. Would never trust him again, probably. Not that it mattered, he thought, angst welling inside of him. She would have to take the next train out of his life today, preferably for good. He was poison to her, here was the proof. _  
_

"Sorry isn't good enough," she said numbly, as though to accentuate the fact.

"I know it isn't," he answered.

She looked up at him, and glanced down at his bloody hand for the first time, before looking aside.

"I need you to go away," she said softly, tonelessly, hugging her knees to her chest in a protective gesture. "I don't want to see you again. Just... just let me get dressed and I'll leave right away -

"Don't go," he choked out, hating himself for how petulant he sounded.

She bowed her head, crying silently this time, and Cassius wanted to kill somebody. Chiefly, himself. He lowered himself to his knees so that he could be face-to-face with her, pleadingly, calling her name, but she continued to sob into her arms, shaking her head violently whenever he said her name. He reached out to touch her, and she let out a cry and scrambled backwards as though terrified, and he felt something inside him break.

He stood up shakily and took a deep breath, unable to look away from her despite wanting to vomit each time she let out a shuddering sob.

"Okay," he said hoarsely. "I'm going. You can ask Tally for the Floo Powder. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

He backed out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. He winced, feeling the pain in his hand for the first time. Sobriety could go suck it. If there was ever a time he'd needed a drink, it was now.

Once she was sure that he was gone, Alicia looked up and around, brushing the back of her hand against her eyes. She took a deep shuddering breath to calm herself down.

It was time to leave. For good this time.

She called for Tally, and the elf appeared in the room, looking around at the mess with wide, frightened eyes.

"Yes, miss?"

"I need you to help me with my dress," she said distantly, holding the front of the dress against her chest.

"Yes, miss," the elf squeaked. It snapped its fingers and the laces looped themselves through the holes, tying into a bow at the top.

"I also need floo powder," she said. "I'll meet you downstairs."

"Yes miss."

"Oh. By the way, is - is your master gone?"

"Yes, miss."

"Okay. Thanks. I'll see you in a bit."

The elf disappeared with a loud crack and Alicia fingered her wand inside of the hidden pocket in her dress. It was time to learn some Occlumency.

She took one last look around the room to make sure she hadn't left anything behind, before hurrying towards the door. She cringed as her hand came into contact with something wet and sticky on the doorknob. She looked at her hand in horror. Blood. _His_ blood. She looked around to see if there was something she could wipe her hand on, and her eyes fell on a piece of parchment on Cassius' desk that he had apparently failed to collect.

She walked over towards the desk, curiosity flaring. What was it that had caused him to go berserk and try to legillimens her? What was he hiding? Something about blood magic, obviously. She picked up the piece of parchment, wiping her hand against the blank side facing her, before turning it over in case there was something on the other side.

She stared down at the crest, a carefully drawn coat of arms consisting of a blue shield with a gold chevron in between three silver roses. It was surrounded by two hyppogriffs on each side and a helmet on top, with a terrifying black space where there ought to have been a face, and intricately drawn vines and the usual bits one found on old family crests.

_Rosier_.

_Delapsus resurgam_.

What in the hell was Cassius up to?

* * *

**Well? Whaddaya guys think? I'm still all nervous about writing smut but I think (and hope) it was okay! **

**-Coalhaus **


	20. Chapter 20

**Phew, long chapter this time. Okay, so I wanted to get this story rolling so we basically plow through about two weeks here (since this chapter starts on New Years and the last one ended on Christmas). Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Lots of angsty goodness. Some of you will undoubtedly be enraged. I look forward to your comments and criticisms and suggestions as always :D I hate to be a review troll, but I'm actually getting obsessed with your opinions of my writing so PLEASE let me know how I'm doing! **

**-Coalhaus**

**PS**

**Thanks to those kind souls who took the time to send a little comment my way! I appreciate your suggestions and I'll definitely work on expanding on the blood magic thing. To be honest, I still don't really know much about it myself - all these ideas kind of just pop into my head as I write. If any of you have any ideas or suggestions about it, let me know. **

**S/O to Allergies (I'm terribly sorry I forgot to mention you in my last chapter, I hope you're not offended!), to J, to Liz, EtoileBlack, Supergirl818, Stromsten and NC. If there's anyone else I missed, I apologize and just let me know!**

* * *

_Delapsus resurgam_.

"Well I suppose it's their family motto or something, isn't it," said Skylar absentmindedly as she flipped through Alicia's closet. "I mean, I'm no expert or anything on it - but yeah, I remember their coat of arms. Definitey. Silver roses. Isn't that hilarious? You'd think for a bunch of -

"_Don't say it_ -

"- psychopath-murderer-rapist-death-eaters, they'd have something a little more... badass, no? Or maybe it's an irony thing... thorny roses or whatever. Good god, Alicia, what the hell is this, a mumu? I'm burning it, I'm not even going to ask why you have one of these. Wait, you haven't been knocked up, have you?"

Alicia snatched the dress back from her friend, who was brandishing it about as though it were infected with the plague.

"No, I'm not knocked up," she said irritably, holding the dress possessively. "It was a gift from my nan."

Skylar grimaced.

"Oh... sorry. It's... er, very chic." She turned back towards the closet and continued to flip through the rack. "So what's with all the interest in the Rosiers?"

"I was working a project for school, on blood magic and, er, the Rosiers came up. I'm just curious is all. And I remember you were saying something about studying famous families or whatever -

"Well I didn't - not on them, I mean. We were all assigned families to present on, but yeah, I do remember some stuff from the Rosier presentation. Hey, did you know this? The Rosiers are supposedly descended from an incubus."

"An incubus," Alicia echoed sarcastically. "You're joking."

"No, really - I'm dead serious. Look it up. Obviously it's all legends and rumours or whatever, and I mean, they're not the only ones who supposedly come from these crazy backgrounds, but I guess it isn't impossible. It's either that or they've got to have veela blood somewhere - you ever see portraits of these people? Seriously. Model material."

Cassius' face popped up into her mind, and Alicia pursed her lips. So, he was descended, quite possibly, from an incubus. Why did that not surprise her in the least?

"But... well, what's weird is that even the muggles know about them. Well, not the Rosiers per say, but _The_ Rosier, the one who was supposedly an incubus. Apparently he's like the démon patron -er, patron demon - of tainted love and seduction. Oh, hey, this looks really cute." Skylar tossed her a bordeaux halter-dress that Alicia had worn for a friend's birthday the previous summer. "You have shoes to go with? Anyway, all this incubus stuff is probably bollocks. I mean, whoever heard of a monogamous incubus? From what I remember from Magical Creatures, they're like... man-whores. _Major_ man-whores."

_They are man-whores_, Alicia thought acerbically as she thought about the portraits that lined the walls of Berkley House.

"If you ask me," Skylar continued as she shut the closet and sauntered over towards Alicia's vanity, "It was probably just some creep going around imperiusing sleeping muggles and shagging them. I mean, knowing what the descendants turned out to be?"

"Yeah," Alicia mumbled, feeling slightly ashamed. "And - er, what does _delapsus resurgam_ mean again?"

"_When I fall, I shall arise_." Skylar smirked. "Maybe it has something to do with... you know, down there."

Alicia snorted. Trust Skylar to come up with such an analogy.

"No, really - what do you think?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Skylar, sounding exasperated. "You know these crazy purebloods... think they're gods, half of them. I think the guy in my class said it had something to do with keeping the family alive."

Alicia frowned.

"What, you mean like resurrection?"

Skylar rolled her eyes.

"This isn't Beedle the Bard come to life. More like... I dunno, making sure there's always an heir or something. You know, so the Rosier name sticks around or whatever. But I think it has something to do with the incubus legend, if it's true. You know how incubi can leave their bodies as long as they find another host... although to be honest, it would be rather pointless wouldn't it, if the whole point was to keep the same bloodline intact. And I'm not sure if half-incubi are even possible. Is... er, incubism even genetic? And can it be passed down through males and females or just males? I should probably look that up, actually... But I don't bloody know, circe! You're the one who's studied blood magic, and I dropped Magical Creatures this year... You probably know more about this stuff than I do. We really only focused on the famous people part of the families, so I don't really know much else beyond who slept with who and who beheaded whose head. And to be honest, I kind of stopped paying attention after I presented."

Alicia shrugged. She'd already learned more in five minutes than she'd managed to glean by subtly quizzing her mother every so often about the Rosiers. _Delapsus Resurgam_. It wasn't _that_ bizarre for a family motto... after all, weren't purebloods in general obsessed about continuing their lines? The only thing that bothered her were all the blood magic books and old texts that Cassius had neatly piled on his desk. Why was he researching Rosier blood magic? Which was what he was obviously doing, considering the carefully drawn Rosier crest she'd found... Alicia shuddered as she remembered some of the more graphic images from some of the textbooks they'd used for their project research. The thought of being branded caused her stomach to heave unpleasantly.

"So," said Skylar brightly, "Too slutty or not slutty enough?"

Alicia laughed, and hurled a stuffed dog at Skylar's head.

"Definitely not slutty enough," she said sarcastically, eying the skin-tight indigo dress enviously. "You and Katie have got to have the longest legs I've ever seen. Not that Katie'd ever be caught dead wearing _that_."

"Bitch," Skylar retorted jokingly. "And anyway, you've got the wrong idea about Katie. Actually, so did I for that matter... Didn't I tell you? I saw her at Place Lapelar the other day. She was coming out of one those new sex shops that are opening up all over the place -

"What!" Alicia spluttered in shock.

"Oh yeah," said Skylar, nodding enthusiastically. "And with this older bloke too, mad fit - I know I've seen him somewhere before -

"Katie? As in my Katie? _Katie Bell_? With who? You're kidding - hang on. Are you sure it was her? She has an older sister, you know - graduated before our time. _And_ she just got married to Geoffrey Keitch, who might I add, is only like one of the most famous chasers of all time, which is probably how you recognized the bloke."

"I never knew she had a sister," Skylar mused. "I suppose that would make more sense."

"Oh yeah, they look absolutely identical. She plays for the Harpies, go figure."

"Mm. True. By the way, so what's the deal? Are we meeting your girls there or are we meeting at a bar first?"

"Bar first - club drinks are always ridiculously pricier. And are you sure it's okay that Katie's coming?"

"I told Lucien we'd be five. He's bringing some of his friends too. By the way, he told me he knows you. Well, he knows _of_ you."

"Oh god, please don't tell me he was at the Ball -

Skylar shrugged.

"Society's a small world, apparently. It's okay, he doesn't hold it against you. We all know Lestrange - she's a couple years above me, and trust me, everybody thinks she's a psycho bitch."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Alicia muttered.

"It'll be fine, just try not to run into her tonight."

Alicia froze.

"What the hell do you mean, tonight? How do you know that bitch is going to be there?"

Skylar tutted in disapproval.

"Don't you keep up with your own social news? Tsktsk. Even _I _know that the _real_ party's tonight. That coming-out Yule thing is for all the stuffy old people. All the _young_ people who were at the ball are going to be at _69_ tonight, guaranteed. And obviously sad laymen such as myself. Speaking of which, are you shitting me? Is Angel actually going to be there tonight?"

Alicia rolled her eyes as she threw on her dress.

"Yeah, he's been going on about it all day - a couple of his buddies snagged some last-minute tickets so they're going to be there. Urgh, as long as we avoid the muggle side we'll be fine. The last thing I need to deal with is him getting all up in our faces about dancing with blokes. Needless to say, he has no idea that we're going to be there."

"Hear hear," Skylar replied. "So what about Bishop?"

"Back to Thailand," Alicia replied with a small frown. "His grandfather isn't doing so well apparently, so they only came down for Yule."

"Thailand, eh? You know what they say about white boys and those Asian birds," said Skylar with a nudge and a wink.

Alicia chucked her shoe at her.

"Oh shut up," she said. "As long as they aren't anything like you -

"Hey! I'm only half. And anyway, _nobody_'s as cool as me -

"Modest much?"

Skylar stuck out her tongue and hurled the shoe back at Alicia.

"Get dressed, bitch, we're going to be late! And _please_ put that mumu away before I get sick!"

* * *

"And _where_ do you girls think you're going dressed like that?"

"Hi dad," Alicia groaned as she and Skylar stepped onto the second floor landing and into the path of her unimpressed, slightly tipsy father.

"Hi uncle," Skylar chimed.

"Leave them alone, Alan," Aurora called out from the kitchen. "Alicia deserves a proper night out after that disaster with mum and dad."

"Ha! Not dressed like that she doesn't!"

"Dad!"

Alan crossed his arms and glared at Alicia indignantly.

"You look like - like - Aurora! For chrissake, come here and deal with this. I need a pint."

Skylar giggled.

"I think he's already had a couple."

Alicia rolled her eyes. New Years. Her parents' favourite time of year besides St. Patrick's Day... they made money _and_ they got to get drunk. She waited, hands on her hips, for her mother to stumble into the corridor with a glass of rosé in her hand.

"You look lovely," Aurora cooed, much to Alan's dismay. "Although... I don't think dresses were quite _that_ short in my day -

"That's because they weren't," Alan barked. "And that was hardly ten years ago!"

"Mm, well - well, it _will _be dark after all..." said Aurora helplessly, before bursting into giggles. "Come on Alan, let the girls have their fun. We'll have our own while they're out. And anyway, Laurie told me that Angel's going as well -

"Angel's going? Fine. As long as he brings you girls there and back -

"But dad!" Alicia whined. "Angel's a - a _twat_! I mean, he isn't. But he is! I can't go to the club with my cousin! And anyway, we can't go through the muggle side, not with our wands."

"C'mon Alan," said Aurora with a twinkle in her eye. "Just let the girls go. It's New Years! And you really think Angel wants to babysit -

"I'm older than he is!"

"Pfft, by a month."

" - babysit his _older_ cousin? Let's just go downstairs, I'm sure the boys already have their hands full with the pub, and we'll have a good time. The girls will be fine! _69_ is probably the safest place in wizarding London after Gringotts, St. Mungo's and the Ministry."

* * *

"Jesus," Alicia muttered as she looked around Diagon Alley in awe. "I thought my dad would never let us go."

"Me too," Skylar admitted. "Good thing your mum's so cool. _My_ mum practically threw a fit when I told her where we were going! I can't believe her. Who works on New Years?"

"Hm, well let's see.. healers and bar owners, so I guess that makes both our parents!"

"Pfft, at least your parents get to drink on the job."

The girls weaved in and out of the traffic. As the sun had set, the daytime crowd of families and merchants had disappeared, slowly replaced by drunken revellers ready to start the night with style. Alicia stared in amazement as she examined each new bar or restaurant that appeared, magically popping up and expanding in between the familiar storefronts she was used to seeing by day.

"Jesus," she exclaimed as a group of young American wizards crowded past them, hollering drunkenly, "I can see why mum never let me stay here past sunset! I never even knew this stuff existed!"

"I love magic," Skylar sighed happily as a little chip shop sprang up out of nowhere in between a daytime sweet shop and a clothing boutique.

They weaved in and out of the crowds until they found Cafe Dolce, which was where Alicia usually met the girls by day whenever they planned a trip to Diagon Alley. The usually calm and quiet cafe was now filled with young witches and wizards who looked to be from an assortment of international magical institutions, judging by some of their robes and sweaters. They were discussing animatedly - some of them quite heatedly - as they sipped on coffee and pints.

"I can't wait for uni," Skylar murmured appreciatively as they glanced around the crowd. "Brains and brawn - what's there not to love? I mean, look at that bloke - he could be on the cover of PlayWitch and he's talking about Walden's Theory of Parallel Planes!"

"You're so incredibly dorky and slaggish all at the same time, it's actually ridiculous," Alicia laughed as she eyed Skylar's adonis. "Oh look, I think that's your friend, isn't it? Whatshername, Jordan, yeah?"

They made their way over towards a window seat, where Skylar's old friend from Hogwarts, Jordan Blott, one of the heirs to the immense _Flourish and Blotts _fortune, was seated, waving at them. The tiny redhead, who was dressed in a short emerald sequin dress, jumped up and hugged Skylar, and Alicia giggled at the sight of them, because Skylar absolutely towered over the both of them with her heels on.

"Hi Jordan," said Alicia, briefly hugging the younger girl. "How have the hols been?"

"Alright," the girl replied excitedly. "Dad's got me working at the shop all day but it's been good, a lot of people are coming by and buying up all the Defence books they can get their hands on ever since... well, you know. The Tournament."

They jumped when a knocking sound interrupted their conversation. Alicia turned her head around and broke into a grin. Angelina and Katie waved at her from the other side of the window, both dressed to the nines - at least, as far as she could tell, since they were both wrapped up in beautiful winter cloaks.

"Chug your beer," Skylar ordered, standing up excitedly. "Lucien said he'll be waiting for us at the club so we'll need time to look for him."

Alicia stared, open-mouthed, as Jordan smirked and accepted the challenge, chugging back the pint of butterbeer as though she were a bottomless pit. A couple boys who were sitting across from them cheered, and the redhead flushed in embarrassment.

"You Ravenclaws surprise me every time," she said, following Skylar and Jordan out of the cafe.

* * *

After waiting in line, exposed to the cold and the wind for so long, stepping into the club for the first time was like stepping into hell. The throbbing bass made Alicia's heart tremble, and she felt a surge of excitement as a blast of heat and sound washed over her as the bouncers shut the doors behind them to the crowd outside.

Inside, it was dark and just as crowded. They were in some sort of narrow corridor, but up ahead were four glowing golden arches, each manned by burly looking men or skimpily dressed women, all in black.

"What are those?" Alicia asked, watching as witches and wizards stepped through the arches one by one.

"Probity probe and secrecy sensor all rolled into one," said Lucien, Skylar's friend who'd met them outside of the club along with three other mutual school friends of theirs from Beauxbatons. "They can detect anything, even drugs."

"Damn," said Jordan, "You mean like on that man there?"

The girls watched as a bouncer dragged off a sulky young man who'd crossed through the now flashing golden arch, and was proclaiming his innocence while his friends shook their heads in disgust. The bouncer pulled out a hand-held sensor and rolled his eyes as he fished out a packet of cigarettes from the man's inner coat pocket. He opened it up and with a bored expression on his face, dragged the man passed them and kicked him out of the club.

"Next!"

Once they got past the golden arches, the group found themselves in a second room. The sound of at least a dozen different languages, if not two, rang throughout the room. It was a large, circular room with multiple entrances also manned by large, brutish looking men. There was a large circular counter in the middle of the room, with what looked like a cross between some sort of futuristic glass elevator shaft in the centre. Over each of the entrances was written the name of the room beyond it: _Floo - International; Floo - Domestic; Apparition - International; Apparition - Domestic; Portkey - International; Portkey - Domestic; Diagon Alley; Club Entrance; Emergency Exit; Staff Only_. A sign floating above the circular counter read _Wand and Coat Check_.

The group joined one of the wand check queues and watched as the beautiful girls behind the circular counter weighed wand after wand on the brass wand weighers, just like the ones at the Ministry of Magic.

When Alicia finally stepped up to the counter, the girl at the counter snapped her gum and drawled, "Wand."

Alicia refrained from rolling her eyes and handed the girl her wand. The girl placed it on the scale and a slip of copy-parchment popped out of the machine.

"Anything else you'd like to check in?" the girl asked in a bored voice.

"Just my coat," Alicia replied.

"One galleon."

She handed the girl her coat and her money, and the girl wrote down _coat - black_ on the copy-parchment.

The girl turned around and tapped her wand against the elevatorshaft thing behind her. A set of doors materialized and slid open, just like an elevator, and the counter girl lazily hung Alicia's coat on the empty rack. The doors slid shut and a small hole appeared. Alicia watched in apprehension as the girl slid her wand into the hole and both wand and hole disappeared. The counter-girl copied down some numbers and letters onto the copy-parchment, handed it to Alicia for her to sign, tore off the top parchment for herself and handed Alicia the bottom one.

"Don't lose it or you'll have to go through the Ministry to get your wand back," the girl sneered. "Next!"

"Finally," Angelina muttered impatiently once all the girls checked their things in. "No bloody wonder the line outside is so damn long! Even the Ministry's quicker at getting things processed!"

"This place is going to be a nightmare on the way out - imagine all the drunk people looking for their stupid slips of parchment. And can you believe it? An entire bloody galleon just for coat check! It's absolute robbery," Skylar exclaimed.

"Yeah, I didn't even tip," said Katie scornfully. "That girl was an absolute bitch."

"Urgh," Alicia grumbled. "Which one did you get, the brunette with the gum?"

"Yeah. Stupid cow."

* * *

Six drinks in, Alicia was leaning towards the drunker side of tipsy. She danced with Katie and Angelina, grinning foolishly as they grinded against each other to "Big Poppa", amazed that the wizarding side of the club would even play muggle music - _American_ muggle music at that. They were laughing at the attention they were getting from the boys - or rather men - around them as they tossed back their drinks and writhed like the half-naked girls on the music videos, smiling teasingly but never letting anybody get too close.

Two drinks later, Alicia and Katie laughed as Angelina broke away from them to grab a drink with one of her friends from charm school they'd run into a little earlier.

Soon after that, Alicia found herself deserted as she winked at Katie who was in the midst of being whisked away by a broad-shouldered man in a black and white mask, who was whispering into her ear, causing her to blush furiously.

"You okay?" Alicia mouthed.

Katie gave her a slight nod over her shoulder, and Alicia smiled. She glanced around her, wondering where the rest of her friends had gone. Angelina and her friend had gone to the bar and had not returned. Skylar was long gone, no doubt dragged away to some booth for some mouth aerobics by Lucien, with whom she'd basically been surgically attached to since hitting the dance floor. Even Katie was gone, drawn away by the man who'd caused her to blush so profusely in the span of half a second.

Alicia looked up and admired the view of the second and third floors of the club as she danced automatically with whoever had just come up behind her. She could see couples dancing, and lights flashing and people looking down, waving and calling at friends. She caught a glimpse of one of Lucien's friends, recognizing the pattern of his mask, and waved at him. The grip around her waist suddenly tightened, reminding her that she'd been absentmindedly swaying her hips against some unknown man, and she turned around indignantly, stumbling drunkenly for a moment before regaining her grip by clutching the stranger's shirt.

Cassius.

It was Cassius, she could smell him. It had to be him. Nobody else made her head spin like he did, even with the stink of stale drink and smoke that permeated the air in the club because under that, it was purely _him_. His grip around her waist tightened again, and she saw his eyes flash behind his blue and bronze mask. The patterns on his mask swirled like the eye of a storm.

"Who the hell is that?" he all but growled into her ear, dragging her in closer, so close that she could feel his groin pressing against her.

"None of your business," she snapped throatily. "Let me go. How did you know it was me?"

He laughed coldly in her ear.

"I could spot you out of a crowd, deaf and blindfolded," he replied none too happily, because the fact was, he shouldn't have been able to. But he had. He'd spotted her at the bar from the second floor about fifteen minutes earlier, purely by chance because he'd been searching for Montague, Pucey, Flint and a couple others he'd come to the club with, but the second he saw her he'd known it was her. The flash of long blonde hair next to her and the amazon standing on her other side had only confirmed the fact that the Gryffindor Princesses were in the house. When he saw the glint of Marcus Flint's mask amongst the three of them a few minutes later, he made the foolish decision to hunt her down. She hadn't even turned to look at him, despite grinding her ass against him the moment his hands had slipped around her waist - she'd been too occupied making sure Baby Bell wasn't being mauled to death by Flint. Not that Alicia, or even Bell, seemed to have any idea who he was, since neither of them had run off screaming. Cassius smirked. He'd always suspected Flint of his less than... legal attraction towards Bell, which he imagined had all started after they'd nearly died plummeting to the ground in a Quidditch match some years earlier. They'd spent a week at the hospital wing together with only each other for company, and Flint had seemed a little off in the head when it came to Bell ever since. And now, here was his confirmation - and ammunition, should he ever need it.

But right now, he was in need of a different sort of ammunition. Something to disarm Alicia, because evidently she was still pissed off at him, which she had the right to be, much to his dismay.

He pulled her away from the centre of the dance floor and towards one of the many alcoves off to the side of the room where they wouldn't be recognized by either of their friends or acquaintances... there were a lot of people from Yule at the club tonight. She didn't even resist him as he dragged her away from the crowd, too unsteady on her heels to bother, and if he was to stroke his own ego for a bit, because he knew she was still attracted to him despite his behaviour the previous week; she hadn't taken more than half a second to breathe out his name when she'd turned around so tell him off for gripping her waist so tightly after she'd waved at the twat looking down at them from one of the floors above.

Speaking of which...

"You going to tell me who that was?" he demanded, cornering her into the alcove with his sheer size.

"None of your business," she retorted stubbornly. "Or are you just going to legillimens me to find out?"

He sucked in a breath and counted to three. Stupid masks, he thought irately. He wanted to rip hers off so that he could look at her and tell her that he was sorry. But what good would that do? What was done was done, and she'd obviously not forgotten so soon that he'd... _violated_ her.

"_Cassius, Cassius, Cassius, Cassius, you should know_," she sang drunkenly.

He frowned at her.

"What should I know?"

"It's a song, stupid," she said, poking him in the chest. "_You try too hard, is that the answer to the riddle? Instead of doin' so much, why don't you do just a little... Cassius, Cassius, Cassius, Cassius, you should know - _badda baaaaaa, ba ba baba baba baaa -

He cut her off with a heated, drunken kiss, gripping her roughly in his hands as though she would turn into a pile of sand and blow away.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he said in a low voice, "But you can't sing worth your life. "

"I hate you," she said, leaning back against the wall for support, her eyes half shut. "And I can too sing. You're just tone deaf."

Cassius snorted and patted her head condescendingly.

"Okay there, sweetheart," he drawled sarcastically. "Whatever it takes. Do you forgive me now?"

"Only because I'm drunk," she said, swatting his hand away. "And don't pat my head - you'll mess up my hair."

"It's already messed," he said, sliding his hand into her hair so that he could tilt her head back and kiss her neck. She moaned appreciatively.

"Where's your boyfriend?" he grumbled scornfully, the word _boyfriend_ leaving a bitter taste in the back of his mouth.

"Thailand," she whispered guiltily. "What if somebody recognizes us?"

"We're wearing masks, in the dark," he mumbled against her jawline.

"Ha, you call that a mask?" she replied, plucking at the magical fabric that covered only half her face.

He shrugged.

"I'm going to still be mad at you in the morning," she groaned as he slid his hands down to grasp her bum.

"That's okay," he said hoarsely as her thigh rubbed against him, "You love me anyway."

Shit, he thought hazily. He shouldn't have said that. He felt her stiffen under his grasp, and he held her closer still, breathing in the smell of her hair. He found himself apologizing for some stupid reason, drunkenly clutching her to his chest, whispering "it'll be okay, it'll be okay" while she shook her head wildly, mumbling, "I wish we'd never met."

"You and me both, babe," he murmured into her hair, "You and me both."

"_Ladies and gentlemen, it's that time of the night, the moment you've all been waiting for! Say goodbye to 1995 and say hello to the new year!_"

"Cassius, what are we going to do?" she said, looking up at him, her eyes glittering desperately behind her mask.

"_Ten! Nine! Eight!"_

"It'll be okay, it'll be okay." _Say it enough and maybe it will be. **For the last time, just fuck off!**_

_**"**Five! Four! Three!"_

_"_You don't know that! How can you know that?"

Dispair coloured her voice, and he could feel her panic as though it was his own.

"_HAPPY NEW YEAR!" __  
_

He seized her by the waist and kissed her, and he could practically taste her fear and anxiety mingled with the tang of liquor and cigarettes. He imagined that he tasted very much the same. _It'll be okay, it'll be okay. _Everything would be okay. It had to be. And in that moment, standing there with her pressed against him as the crowd surged and screamed and danced around them, he really believed it.

Even half an hour later as he made love to her on the living room floor, pants barely to his knees, he believed it.

He stopped believing it an hour later as he watched her disappear through the fireplace, back to the club to find her friends, leaving him alone in the house with the portraits of all the women who'd once loved and been loved by men like him.

Fools.

They were all fools, every last one of them.

* * *

The first day back was always idyllic. Even the professors were lax in their lessons, still wistfully thinking about their own two weeks of holiday cheer.

Alicia should have known it wouldn't last.

The morning of the second day of classes was like any other. She rolled out of bed at half-past seven, washed up and got changed, grabbed her books for the day, and blearily made her way down the stairs to the Great Hall for breakfast.

An hour later, the entire school was abuzz, rumours flying left, right and centre about the latest (and most horrible news to date) to reach their ears since the truth behind Cedric Diggory's death at the Triwizard Tournament. As Alicia stood and gathered her belongings, she suddenly realized with a certain degree of frightening apathy that she had crossed some sort of threshold in life. Things would never be the same again.

Azkaban Breakout.

The War had started.

The few students who still had subscriptions to the Daily Prophet were seen swamped in the corridors by the masses, desperate for news. When had it happened? Who had escaped? Whose families were affected most by this news?

Alicia and Katie spent the afternoon consoling Angelina, who was stiff with tension as she waited for news from her mother on her how her father was doing. An auror high up in the ranks with experience from the last war, he was no doubt now on the hunt, and would certainly be in the first line of danger should anything go wrong.

Meanwhile, other classmates were hounded with attention as people demanded with morbid fascination the details regarding deaths of family members at the hands of the escapees. Alicia shivered, remembering her run in with Rabastan Lestrange's deranged daughter.

The Slytherins stuck to themselves, and Alicia noticed as she quickly made her way down to the Great Hall for dinner that it looked like they were travelling in packs. They kept their voices low, and avoided talking with people of other houses, and she wondered how many of them were related to lunatics like Lestrange, lunatics who had destroyed so many lives for the sake of absolutely nothing. If they were usually regarded with apathy or dislike, today they were on the receiving end of many a fearful, hateful stare.

Rosier, Rosier, Rosier.

The name rang in the back of her head as she forced herself to swallow a spoonful of mashed potatoes, and she glanced over at the Slytheirn table and saw Cassius speaking in hushed tones with Montague. Neither of their faces conveyed any expression, but she could tell Cassius was tense from the stiff movements he made, if any.

"Bastards," Angelina snarled, following her gaze. "They're all bastards, every single one of them. I'll bet you any money half of them are up to their asses in this right now."

"They're still students," said Katie, before putting up her hands defensively under Angelina's wrathful glare. "I'm not saying I think you're completely wrong - I'm just saying, they can't help what their - their families have done."

"Ha!" Angelina spat. "Half of those psychopaths who escaped were Death Eaters before graduation, I'll have you know. Think about it... Crouch Jr. was like, nineteen when he was arrested. Just because we're young, doesn't mean we're not capable of doing crazy things. Look at Harry, he defeated you-know-who before he could even talk! Any of those pricks could be Death Eaters, young or not."

It was the truth that Alicia didn't want to acknowledge. But Cassius wasn't a pureblood fanatic... he held some ideas that were different from her own, perhaps, but he wasn't a fanatic. How could she judge him by what his uncles had done? She'd thought about him all week, had thought about the way he'd kissed her and stroked her hair and had whispered that everything would be okay. Then yesterday they'd seen each other for the first time at school again and it had been absolutely awful. Carson had kissed her and stroked her hair and had whispered how much he'd missed her when they saw each other in class, and she'd felt sick with grief and guilt. She'd felt the burn of Cassius' hateful stare on them all throughout the hour from his usual back-corner seat. When class was dismissed, he'd brushed past her without sparing her even a glance, and she'd felt her insides crumble when Carson took her hand, chatting absentmindedly about his stay in Thailand and his grandfather's worsening condition.

He was serious now, and Alicia was startled to see him with such a dark look on his face, a look that she generally associated to Cassius. Carson was usually all smiles and laughs, but as she watched him from the corner of her eye, she could see that he looked noticeably disturbed. But then again... so did the rest of the school. They were all in the dark, waiting for more news on the breakout, and all they had to fuel the fire for the moment were rumours.

* * *

The next morning after news of the breakout had hit the Hogwarts circuit, Alicia awoke to another educational decree posted on the house noticeboard, this one banning teachers from offering students information not related to their curriculum. It was sad. She hardly batted an eye.

Both Harry and Angelina announced their upcoming schedules in the common room before dinner to lighten the mood, which had gotten even more tense over the course of the day. Umbridge was now in psycho-bitch mode, patrolling the halls and classes and throwing detentions around left, right and centre for even the most minor of perceived infractions.

Harry murmured that D.A. practices would be held twice a week upon notice, with the first one beginning that night after dinner. Quidditch practices would start the next day in order to train their new members, Ginny, Sloper and Kirke, who were replacing the twins and Harry, with fitness training and broom drills every other day. They would have to miss Hogsmeade in February, unfortunately, due to the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match which always happened the day after. _That _particular bit of news did _not_ lighten the mood.

Alicia left the Gryffindor table after greeting the twins and Lee Jordan to sit next to Carson, who'd waved her over with a small, tired smile.

"Hey you," she murmured, sliding into the seat next to him. She shut her eyes as he pressed a kiss onto her temple.

"Hey," he muttered, "Sorry I haven't stopped to see you, I was a little bit... well, yeah."

She'd heard the news in the common room just after lunch. Benjy Fenwick was his uncle, his mother's oldest brother. He'd been blasted to pieces by a Death Eater named Simon Travers, one of the Azkaban escapees. His had been one of the more gruesome deaths detailed by the Daily Prophet the day before. It was no wonder that Carson seemed to have stuck mainly to himself since yesterday morning. She cursed herself for being a shittier girlfriend than she already was - anybody else would have at least sought to him out to see how he was doing, if only to say hi. She'd merely counted her lucky stars that she could avoid him for an extra second, until she'd realized exactly why he was in a funk.

"How are you holding up?" she asked awkwardly as she twirled a strand of hair through her fingers, tugging anxiously on the ends as she tended to do when uncomfortable.

"I'm alright," he grunted. "Not like I can remember the bloke or anything, right?" he said with a small, heartless laugh.

Alicia squeezed his hand under the table, and he squeezed back with a small murmur of "don't worry 'bout me."

"It'll be okay," she whispered.

She wanted to throw up.

Guilty, guilty, guilty.

Her eyes flew up as she felt a familiar prickle on the back of her neck, and Cassius stared blankly back at her, though she could see the slightest bit of a frown. Every nerve in her body flared as her mind screamed at her that she was a Slytherin consort, a traitor to all that was good, a lying, cheating bitch who deserved every bit of torment she felt and more.

She dropped her gaze and stared at her plate.

"Hey."

She looked up, and Carson glanced sideways at her, a funny expression on his face.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna get away from here for a bit? I'm not really hungry."

Oh god. What the hell did that mean? Get away where? Where did he want to go? What did he want to do? A funny feeling in the back of her mind told her that she knew exactly what he wanted to do, and with whom he wanted to do it with. Panic surged and swelled deep inside her chest, and she found herself being led out of the Great Hall by Carson's firm grip around her hand, as Cassius burned holes into the back of her head. She looked back and saw that he'd half come to his feet, jealousy and rage flaring in his eyes. Montague, who across from him, turned over his shoulder to stare at her too, and with a small mocking shake of the head, he forced Cassius down to his seat. The doors shut behind her, creaking ominously as Carson turned around to see if she was coming.

* * *

"Sit down," said Montague casually, shoving Cassius down to his seat by pushing down on his shoulder, "I'll pass you the bloody salt."

Cassius sat, shaking with anger - and desperation - as Montague grounded him with a hard stare while he passed him the salt with a fake smile. Around them, the Slytherins continued to talk amongst themselves in hushed voices, and nobody had noticed that Cassius had practically bolted from his seat to stop Bishop from taking his girl away -

He clenched his fists under the table.

That's right. Bishop was taking his girl away. As in his girlfriend. Because Alicia was his girlfriend. And boyfriends and girlfriends were allowed to leave to go places privately together without anybody saying or doing jack bloody shit about it, because that's what boyfriends and girlfriends did. What boyfriends and girlfriends _couldn't_ do was leave to go places privately together with the people they were having affairs with while the general populate looked on, because that's just the way that affairs worked.

He was going to kill somebody.

Bishop was unhinged. He'd seen it, he'd seen the way the prick had pushed his food around his plate for past twenty minutes, he'd seen the way he'd practically bared his teeth whenever some nosy little bitch came sniffing by to find out exactly how he was related to the _tragic_ Fenwick murder, he'd watched the way Bishop had stared blankly around him except for when Alicia had come round to hold his stupid hand and to tell him that everything was going to be alright, which was certainly what she'd been telling him as he kissed her forehead and smelled her hair and touched her soft skin, when it ought to have been him she should have been comforting dammit, because she didn't love Carson bloody Bishop, she loved him, him - Cassius fucking Warrington - but now she was gone, gone, gone, and instead of sitting here next to him and stroking _his_ hand and telling him he'd be okay, that they'd run away, far from the grasp of the Dark Lord and his ever-reaching tentacles, he sat here alone, stewing in rage as because he just _knew_ what was going to happen because he'd seen it in Bishop's eyes, and she knew it too, he'd practically tasted her fear from across the hall, and for fuck's sake, he had to do something about it, he had to do something about it _now_ before it was _too late, _and if Montague didn't bloody stop staring at him with that disgusting, knowing look on his face, he was going to snap - _  
_

"Cassius!"

- he had to go, he had to go and stop them -

"Warrington!" Montague barked, and this time half the table turned to look at them.

Cassius refrained from hexing every last one of them, nosy sonsofbitches, and turned to face his friend with a deceptively calm mask on his face.

"What?"

Montague gave him a hard, calculating stare.

"Just wanted to ask you some _advice_," he said lightly. "Adrian and I were just talking Quidditch -

_Big surprise there._

_" - _and I just came up with an interesting question."

_Here it comes_.

"Beaters versus chasers, both have to use their arms a lot. Now who do you think could throw the hardest punch? I'd say chasers, obviously being one myself, but is it something I would bet my money on? I figure a second opinion can't hurt."

Those who had been eavesdropping on the conversation either rolled their eyes at the question and turned away, or piped up their own answers until a proper debate quickly erupted. Montague turned away in satisfaction, his point having been made.

Cassius walked away, each step heavier than the last, as he twirled his wand in his fingers, his mind frightfully blank.

* * *

Ravenclaw Tower was eerily like Gryffindor Tower in every way, shape and form (with the difference of colour of course), except the atmosphere was strangely cold, bordering on unwelcoming, like that of the Slytherin dungeons or Madame Pince's library.

Alicia and Carson had taken a long walk around the castle, and she'd tried to distract him by forcing him along a "scenic route" and played the good girlfriend by lending him an open ear and her thoughts as he vented about the Azkaban breakout, the unwelcome attention he'd received since people had figured out his connection to Travers, and his fears of what would happen in the wizarding world now that it was clear War was about to break loose.

"... and I mean, for all you know that bloke who died at St. Mungo's the other day could have been a bloody set up!"

"What bloke who died at St. Mungo's?"

"I dunno," Carson sighed. "I just skimmed it in the papers. Some freak accident, a ministry employee got a houseplant that turned out to be a devil's snare. I'm just... I'm just pissed off. It probably was just some freak accident, I mean, how many people _really_ pay attention in Herbology?"

"You're a Ravenclaw!"

Carson rolled his eyes.

"If I could count the number of times I hear that in a day - oh, this is it. Er, mind you, the dorm's kind of messy -

"But you're Ravenclaw!" she exclaimed again, desperately clinging onto humour, trying to keep his thoughts grounded in platonic territory.

"Hardee-har-har," said Carson sarcastically as he opened the door, though he gave her a small smile, the first real one she'd seen on his exhausted face all day.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she stared into the Ravenclaw boys' dormitory, and they were not the good kind. The second Carson had asked her if she'd wanted to get away from dinner, she'd known this was coming. He'd been touchier with her in the last couple weeks of school, and she'd sensed his desire to sleep with her in the letters they'd written to each other over the holidays. And he'd been patient enough, she granted him that... but the thought did nothing to alleviate the churning apprehension in her stomach when she felt Carson's warm hand glide across her back and settle at her waist as he pulled her into the dorm, shutting the door heavily behind them.

He pulled her over to the second bed from the left, and silently dragged her onto his lap. His usual patient, chivalrous side seemed to have ebbed away, along with his smiles and good humour, and she forced herself to relax into his arms as he pushed her onto the bed and crawled over her, his knees planted on both sides of her hips.

She wanted to cry as he kissed her, and she wondered if he could feel her hesitation, if he could taste her guilt, or if he was blinded by his desire to lose himself for a moment, tired of waiting for a girlfriend who never wanted to give it up, sick of hearing stupid questions about how he felt about his murdered uncle, and she found herself slowly drifting away into a state of mental absence as her body reacted to his gentle strokes and bruising kisses.

"God Alicia," he murmured into her skin, "You've no idea how long I've wanted this -

She blocked out his voice, pretended she was somewhere else, someone else. She was used to this, used to shutting her eyes and floating away, this was how sex had always been for her until...

Cassius' face loomed in her mind, and she blocked that out too.

She was distantly aware of Carson's hands unbuttoning her blouse, and she crawled further into herself as he pressed heated kisses against her chest, dipping lower and lower until he dragged off her skirt and took her knickers with it.

She settled herself in some far away place of dreams, somewhere she remembered visiting in her sleep as a child, a place high above the clouds where only treetops were seen, where fairies and birds squabbled and where fizzing whizzbees flew about, just begging to be caught and eaten.

She was brutally torn back to earth as she felt Carson slide into her, his rhythm rough and frenzied as he sought to lose himself in instant gratification. Her name sounded all wrong coming out of his mouth, and it was like being in some sort of muggle carnival fun house where nothing made sense and time seemed to slow down, when what she really wanted was for it to go faster. It was a horrible twist of irony that Carson had good endurance, and so Alicia too learned to endure. She shut her eyes and lay silently below him as she drifted back to her dreamland. When he finally came, she let out a sigh of relief that she pretended was a sigh of pleasure, and let him benignly kiss her before she put on her clothes and told him she had to go and meet Angelina.

She ran into Peter Kapur and Roger Davies on her way out, and they both teased her about coming out of their dorm with sex hair, and she smiled and laughed and told them off like acting was her natural born talent.

Once she made it out of Ravenclaw tower, she ran and ran and ran until she found herself at the music room that she imagined still smelled like Cassius, and taking a deep shuddering breath, she sunk down onto the floor and wept. When she looked up to take a breath, she saw a half-empty pack of Chasers on the floor by the piano bench, and she knew then that he'd been there. As if on cue, just when she'd crawled over and gently cradled the pack in her hand, she felt the prickle of someone's gaze on the back of her neck, and she stood up and turned around. Through the little glass window, she saw Cassius' face for a split second before he was gone like an apparition.

She ran over and threw open the door, and before she knew what she was doing, she heard herself calling out his name, her voice choked with regret.

Slowly, he turned around, his face white, pinched and closed off.

"It's over, Spinnet," he said in a blank voice.

"Cassius," she whispered pleadingly.

His eyes bore into hers, his gaze expressionless and withdrawn.

"It's over," he repeated, backing away from her. "You're all his." He paused. "I'll take the cigarettes back though. _Accio_."

She felt the pack of _Chasers_ fly out of her hands, torn out of her grasp by force of magic. He snatched them out of the air.

"Have a nice life, Spinnet."

"Cassius - _please, _just let me explain -

He twirled around, and this time she saw the whirl of emotions flash behind his eyes, all the anger and hurt and jealousy, before it was replaced once again by the cool unreadable mask of indifference.

"You don't have anything to explain. Any third year with a halfway functioning imagination could guess what you've been up to," he said cruelly, eying her hair and untucked blouse. "I'm leaving now. I just came back for my fags, not to hear a sob story. Have a nice life, Spinnet and let's just leave it at that."

"_Cassius_ -

"_Don't_," he hissed, taking two long, furious steps towards her. "Don't call me that ever again. Don't call me anything ever again, do you understand? It's over. For good. And trust me, it couldn't have come at a better time." He took a deep breath and gave her a curt, dismissive nod. "You'll stay away from me, Alicia," he said in a low, scratchy voice. "You'll stay away if you know what's good for you. Don't ever talk to me again."

* * *

**Ok, so who wants to kill me now!? **


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey guys, here's the next instalment. Thanks to Anon, NC, Etoile Black, Liz, D3AtHlYhAlLoW5 and Aatp.  
**

**For all you M/K fans, I've been pondering doing a story for them once I'm done with this one, as well as a more complete Evan-Florrie, but I'm not sure which one to begin with... maybe a vote is in order? **

**PS - Liz; Alicia's attitude towards sex doesn't really come from any childhood trauma, but rather from her own guilt in regards to both Carson and Cassius and her lack of 'healthy' relationships in general with the boys she's slept with, since she was basically peer-pressured into having sex in the first place by her hoodrat friends at home, being the last virgin in their group. But of course, these characters are all just as much yours as they are mine so think what you will of them! **

**Anyway, thanks again for all the reviews and hopefully you'll like this one just as much! **

* * *

"Restricted section?" Madame Pince sniffed suspiciously, eying the Warrington boy's Slytherin crest warily. She'd seen too many students sneak their way through the school's administrative cracks to gain access to some of the darkest book the wizarding world had to offer to not hold at least _some_ distaste towards Slytherins, even the academic ones like young Mr. Warrington, who stood silently and stock still before her. The old librarian frowned as she examined the boy's access pass, signed by both professors Babbling and Vector. Extended study of blood magic indeed! But both professors were of the strict variety when it came to granting access to the restricted section and so Madame Pince grudgingly led the young Mr. Warrington into the depths of her kingdom and past the sacred rope, into the part of the library which she held most dear.

The young man thanked her with the usual cool politeness characteristic of class, and as she watched him disappear into the stacks, Madame Pince suddenly had the strangest sensation of deja-vu, and she found herself thinking back to that dark period of time some twenty odd years earlier when the school corridors had been roamed by students now long-deceased or mysteriously disappeared.

Blood magic indeed...

* * *

_There are no known recorded cases of genetically-inherited incubism or succubuism through non-pure unions, though many legends suggest that the half-blooded children of these creatures (called cambion) do indeed inherit the magical abilities of the incubus/succubus parent, either in part or in full. It is a commonly held belief that the halfblooded female children of incubi or the male children of succubi act as genetic carriers, and therefore do not possess any of the actual magical abilities of a full blooded incubus/succubus. However, it is equally suspected that cambion, whether they are carriers or have in fact inherited the magical abilities of their sire, tend to exhibit certain physical or emotional traits associated with their full-blooded sires. These characteristics include hypersexuality, refined physical features, an uncanny slyness or cleverness used for seductive purposes (not always of a sexual nature), and a __volatile spectrum of emotions that may often border on extreme. These characteristics are also often associated with veela, and some theories propose that veela and succubi are descended from some unknown common ancestor. See veela, Volume 3. These suspicions regarding cambion have not been validated due to the lack of willing subjects, however they have been recorded based on observations of children who are supposedly descended from true incubi and succubi. The most famous suspected cambion is the great warlock Merlin. See Merlin, Volume 5. __The Rosier family of Southern France is one of the most infamous examples of a Western European family long suspected of being descended from an incubus, Roland Rosier I (see Volume 5), who is a known character even in muggle mythology, in which he is simply known as Rosier_.

_However, unlike veela, true incubi and succubi are able to disassociate their souls from their bodies and it is this manner that they often preform their depraved acts upon their prey. Pregnancy through intercourse with the creature's disassociated form is possible, however an unnamed incubus, in a rare interview in 1774, admitted to a healer friend that the incubus chooses whether or not to impregnate his prey. If he so chooses, it seems the prey undergoes a forced ovulation. It is unknown if succubi function in a similar manner, choosing whether or not to become pregnant by forcing themselves to ovulate. Prolonged exposure to either creature in their disassociated form results in fragile health and even death. This effect does not occur from exposure to their usual, complete human form (in which body and soul are attached). It is unknown whether or not these creatures maintain their same abilities in their associated form, or whether the abilities are restricted to their disassociated form._

_If characteristics of incubism and succubism may be genetically inherited by half-blooded children, then the magical abilities are said to only be able to be inherited by magical children of the appropriate sex (that is, if the father is an incubus then all female cambion will act as carriers, while all male children will inherit true incubism, and vice-versa in regards to succubi and their male cambion and female children). If half-blooded incubi and succubi do exist, then it is quite probable that their evolution is similar to that of their full-blooded relatives. Full incubi and succubi do not come into their powers until puberty, at which point they gradually master their abilities until adulthood, though as children they exhibit the same emotional and physical characteristics mentioned above in regards to cambion carriers._

_Another curiosity which has led many researchers to believe that cambion do indeed exist, be they carriers or full inheritors, is the fact that many families who are supposedly descended from incubi and succubi tend to report slightly higher than average occurrences of squibs, as well as cases of the infamous autoimmune disorder, Faust's Disease. While the reported numbers are not significantly higher than average, it is suspected that the number of cases are actually quite underreported, due to the stigma associated with the fatal childhood illness, particularly amongst older established families within wizarding society worldwide.  
_

Faust's Disease. Cassius' hand quivered over the dreaded two words as he was suddenly thrust back into his childhood. He remembered eavesdropping on the hushed whispers between his extended family members (those who were left mostly untouched by the ravages of war, in any case), and the late night or early morning fights between his parents as he cradled Marielle's tiny sleeping figure in his arms after one of her... _spells_, as his aunt had liked to call them.

Spells.

Those little spells had torn his family apart and had ripped the life out of his baby sister before she was old enough to hop onto her first toy broom. He'd spent a lot of lonely nights in his room at his aunt's house once things with Marielle had gone from bad to worse, and he'd spent just as many nights at Montague's after she finally died, leaving their parents to sort themselves out as best as they could. He hadn't heard those two words since those dark days - hadn't actually remembered that it was called _anything_ beside's _Mimi's spells_, but there it was in plain writing, in the awful old book that smelled of mothballs, deep in the depths of Hogwarts' library. Faust's Disease.

He slammed the book shut, and winced as dust flew into the air and attacked his sinuses.

The author had been right, of course, on all counts. And the illness _was_ underreported... the Rosier family tree was littered with children who'd been born squibs and blasted off by a furious relative, and worse, a significantly higher number of children who'd died before the age of eleven, most by the age of five. Marielle had been unlucky in that she'd exhibited her magical abilities early, just like Cassius had. The difference was that while Cassius' powers had gotten stronger and more controlled as he aged, he hadn't suffered for it - the more Marielle had exhibited magic, the weaker her body became, until weakness and exhaustion was replaced by crippling pain and fear, which in turn forced her to exhibit more magic in an even more uncontrolled, violent manner. And so the cycle had continued over two years until she'd wasted away into nothing. Cassius could still feel the flutter of her last breath against his cheek.

He hadn't come here for this... hadn't expected to stumble across his childhood so unexpectedly in this horrid, musty old book of dark magical creatures. Hell, he hadn't even expected to stumble across magical creatures when he'd first stepped foot into the library some three hours earlier... he of course knew about his infamous maternal ancestor, Roland I, and his father had dismissed his late uncles as "arrogant, sex-crazed lunatic beasts" on several occasions, but he hadn't ever seriously thought about the fact that his late uncles were, in all likelihood, incubi. It also explained the inordinate number of rape charges slapped against all of them over the course of their violent careers as Death Eaters, with the exception of his uncle Evan, who'd apparently spent the greater part of his last five years of life creating a complex series of blood magic curses with the sole purpose of making sure that nobody's sticky hands could get ahold of his most beloved property - or properties, rather... his woman and unborn child.

Cassius' research thus far had brought him to two conclusions: first, his uncle had not invoked a single curse known to existence - it was a creation of his own making, a patchwork of a handful of curses that existed on their own, but not all together, and Florrie had only mentioned undergoing to the excrutiating experience of being cursed once. Usually, a series of curses were cast once the initial branding occurred. Second, the family motto _delapsus resurgam_ suddenly took on a whole new meaning now that he was acutely aware of his incubus heritage. Had one of his ancestors learned to keep their souls permanently disassociated from their living bodies? Not that he had any indication his uncle had done such a thing - the family motto was simply part of the family crest, after all, so it didn't mean anything that it was stamped onto Florrie's back - but Evan's portrait had been startling in it's... realness. It was something that had bothered Cassius since their encounter. Portraits were merely _reflections_ of the central figure's life, weren't they? But Evan had mentioned he'd painted it himself, which already made for an even more accurate portrait than a portrait done by another person. But what if he'd found a way to project his soul into his painting?

He shook his head as he left the library. Too much information swam through his mind. What he really needed right now was a spliff.

He followed the tide of students exiting the library as Madame Pince's shrill voice echoed down the corridor, barking at students to hurry up so that she could lock up the library for the night. He checked his watch. Eight o'clock, sharp. He had an hour until curfew, which gave him just enough time to pop outside and back without having to rush.

The East Tower was the unofficial kingdom of Hogwarts' potheads because it was the only tower located away from classrooms, and for some reason it had a second stairwell which made get-aways rather convenient. _  
_

An hour later as he made his way back from the East Tower, he noticed a suspicious concentration of fifth years in the otherwise deserted seventh floor corridor, making their way towards the stairs in groups of twos and threes. It might have been the fact that he was quite lit, or the fact that he'd become a paranoid sonofabitch in the last couple weeks, but whatever it was, he had the distinct impression that something was up - especially since they all fell silent as he strode past them, despite the fact that they were little clusters of students from different houses who upon first glance had nothing to do with one another except for being in the same year.

Suddenly, he heard the distinct voice of the last person in Hogwarts that he wanted to have a run in with, until it too fell silent, and Cassius could feel the burn of Alicia's stare in the back of his head. Where had she come from? There were nothing but empty classrooms in this corridor, and then there was the East Tower at the end. None of these suspiciously quiet groups of students had been at the Tower. He suddenly thought back to the holidays, when Flint had talked to him about the Inquisition Squad - or was it Inquisitorial Squad? Not that it mattered what it was called. But he remembered something, a funny little detail that struck him just then as being odd. Fifth years. There were to be fifth years on the Squad. Because of Potter.

Cassius quickly glanced over his shoulder despite himself, and Alicia stared back at him with a hypogriff-caught-before-a-train expression on her face, and a cold shiver quickly travelled up his spine. He wasn't just stoned. Something was going on.

He recalled the getaway they'd made back in September from this very same corridor. He glanced at the wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, where there had once been a tiny dwarf-sized door, and if he hadn't known better, he would have thought he was crazy because he knew that a dozen pair of eyes had stealthily flickered towards him at that very second, before the corridor was suddenly filled with chatter as though nothing strange was going on.

Cassius kept walking, and he sensed rather than heard Alicia's footsteps approach him as he made his way down the stairs. Almost subconsciously, he found himself taking a detour from the route to his common room and instead made his way towards the music rooms, even as prefects herded students towards the main arteries of the building so that they could clear the corridors as quickly as possible.

He felt Alicia following him, until eventually they were alone. They walked in silence, keeping a distance from each other, and Cassius clenched his fists by his sides as he thought about what to say.

He hadn't spoken a word to her in three weeks, had hardly breathed in her direction for fear of doing something stupid he would regret, like shake her in the middle of the Great Hall and demand that she somehow turn back time and fix everything.

Fix. As if they could be fixed. They'd been broken in the first place. The only thing they could ever be was more broken. It had taken him too long to realize that.

* * *

They stared at each other uncomfortably, a heavy silence hanging between them like the most solid of iron curtains. Alicia hadn't been alone in his presence since that day three weeks earlier when he'd more or less told her to stay out of his life. She hadn't been in her right state of mind since. She'd thrown herself into Quidditch practice with such gusto that even Angelina had practically forced her to take a break for fear that she would kill herself with exhaustion. She'd even thrown herself at Carson, investing herself into their relationship for the first time since they'd started going together, desperate for some form of human contact that could alleviate the pain of losing Cassius. The sex was good, but it just wasn't the same, and she always left his dormitory with a cold sense of loathing and disgust after the initial euphoria had worn off.

D.A practice was another outlet. What had started off in her mind as simply a substitute for the ridiculous class that Umbridge 'taught' turned into something more over the past three weeks. Since news of the Azkaban Breakout, everybody had thrown themselves a lot more seriously into their work, and practices were starting to turn into regular duels that sometimes seemed to border on dangerous. Alicia had improved on her already infamous repertoire of hexes, while some like Neville Longbottom simply skyrocketed in skill. The sad part was, they all knew that the fun and games of duelling with friends was simply preparation for what was to come.

But how was she to explain any of this to Cassius, who continued to stare silently at her, waiting for her to speak... She knew he knew something was up - she'd caught his suspicious stare, the way he'd stared at the Room of Requirements (as she now knew it), the way his sweeping, calculating glance scrutinized the odd number of fifth years dawdling in the seldom used corridor. He wouldn't have led her all this way either without reason, not after three weeks of utter silence, and she knew that neither of them would be leaving this room any time soon, not without some sort of explanation.

Only... she didn't owe him anything. Not in regards to the D.A. In fact - and she'd thought about this a lot over the past three weeks - she didn't owe him anything, period. She'd desperately clung to the fact that Carson was her boyfriend, and that she had a _right_ - a right, dammit - to sleep with him without being judged by Cassius.

So... so why did she feel so dirty under his cold stare? Why did she always cry after every time she and Carson made love? And that's what it was. Making love. Carson was _tender_. He held her and stroked her and coaxed her open like the petals of a flower under the sun, and while he kissed her and murmured softly into her ear about how good she felt, she sometimes managed to make herself _believe_ that everything was okay.

What they did _not_ do was fuck. Cassius liked to _fuck_. He liked to tease her and make her squirm, grinned smugly at the way she begged him to let her come while he kept a firm grip on her hair and on her side. And yet she never felt more in love, more _whole_, than when he grazed his teeth against the back of her neck, whispering filthily and forcibly tilting her chin so that she could look into his eyes as he ground himself against her.

She didn't owe him anything.

They were nothing but an illusion. Illusions were not real. Carson was real. She didn't owe him a thing.

He spoke first, his eyes hard and unfeeling, and his cold steady voice carried across the small music room and made her feel uncomfortably small. _What have you gotten yourself into?_

But she _knew_ him, more than she cared to, and she caught the slightest flash of worry in his eyes as she shook her head, unable to answer. She'd made an oath, and she knew Hermione Granger well enough to be wary of speaking about the D.A. to anyone outside of the group when she was under oath. Not that it was her only reason for avoiding the topic. _ Cassius couldn't know._ More than ever, she felt the weight of their differences as she stared at the Slytherin crest on his robes, seeing it almost as though for the first time.

They were not from each other's worlds.

She'd never quite fully realized just how far apart they really were, and it was like a slap in the face.

He followed her gaze, and his expression visibly tightened.

"How far in are you?" he demanded brusquely. "This has to do with Potter, I just fucking know it," he added under his breath.

"Far enough," she replied hoarsely after a moment of silence.

She was not prepared for his approach - had actually forgotten about how large he was compared to her, how fast he could move - and she flinched when his hands gripped her shoulders to the point of pain.

"You stupid girl," he breathed, shaking her slightly, his voice stiff with anger and anxiety. "You stupid, stupid girl."

She revelled under his touch, even if it hurt, because she knew right then that it wasn't over.

He let go of her and backed away then, his fists clenched by his sides as he shook his head in disbelief.

"For fuck's _sake_ Alicia - you couldn't just let it _go_! Why the hell would you go and do something so stupid like that? Do you have any _idea_, any bloody _clue - _you might as well have stamped a fucking target onto your face, for merlin's sake - you couldn't just fucking _lay low_ -

"It's only a stupid defence -

She slapped her hands over her mouth before she could say anything more, and Cassius's eyes flashed furiously.

"Only a stupid defence what?" he barked. "You're stupider than I thought if you think that these are all just goddamn school games. Look around you - this school is basically under ministry control right now, do you have any idea what that means? Potter is being watched 24/7, and if you think Dumbledore can stop -

"This isn't about Dumbledore or Harry, you great git! If you think for one second that I'm going to graduate from this place with my head buried in the sand, then you're _mad_ -

He shook his head again, his knuckles practically white by his sides.

"And you're just a naive little fool," he said angrily. "What are you going to do, take on the world?" he added mockingly.

"_Fuck you, _Cassius! Maybe I'm naive, maybe I'm a fool, but at least I'm not a coward. At _least_ I'm not going to stand around and watch everything I know fall around me, at _least _I'm not going to just _wait_ for some sonofabitch to come after me just because my father can't cast a goddamn spell.

You know what, actually? You're right, you're absolutely right - I am naive, I'll give you that - but I'm not a fool. _You're_ the fool. _You're_ the fool if you think you get to sit on your fucking pedestal and not take sides. And Daddy won't be able to buy you out of this one, not for long, and _you're_ the naive one if you think you can keep your nose clean forever with your filthy money. You can sit around and watch everybody around you die, but eventually, they'll get to you too. And one day when you're off torturing muggles because you have to or they'll kill you, or whatever it is Death Eaters do, you'll realize how _wrong_ you were to judge _me_ for not wanting to give up. And I hope when that day comes, I'll be dead, because so help me god if I ever see you on the other side of a battle, I'll kill you Cassius, I'll kill you myself because I'd rather love you dead than hate you alive as one of _T__hem_ - _" _

She broke off on a furious sob that escaped from deep inside of her, and she swore in frustration, exhausted by the tears, exhausted by the rage and the guilt and the self-hatred. It was only when she heard the clatter of something fall that she turned around in confusion. She stared as Cassius' ebony wand rolled across the floor and stopped against her feet. He looked back at her, his expression one of utter defeat, and she'd never been more terrified in her life.

"Well then," he said solemnly with a bitter laugh, "You might as well kill me now."

Time stopped and the world ceased spinning, and for a second Alicia thought her heart had been ripped out of her chest. She found herself standing before him, drowning out his confused protests as she seized him by the left arm and literally tore his robes as she dragged the sleeve up his forearm.

His skin was beautifully unmarred and terribly familiar, and she dropped his arm like a hot iron, shoving him back, blinded by rage.

"_You bastard - _how could you _say_ something like that - _  
_

"Only His inner circle gets the mark, you silly girl."

"You - you're - _Cassius_!"

She backed away from him, her face marred with tears of despair, and his heart clenched at the sight. He'd tried to hate her - merlin knows he'd tried -

"_Fuck_," he half shouted in frustration, unable to stop himself, and he flinched when she cowered in fear. "Alicia -

"N-no -

"It isn't what you think -

"You're fucking working for Him! You as good as said so -

"I'm not!" he snapped. "I'm not, okay? Not directly. F - Somebody asked me to - to keep an eye on things at Hogwarts, alright? And I'm not exactly in a position to say no -

"Oh god," she whispered in her horror. "Please no, please Cassius - you can't say anything -

"Jesus fucking christ, what do you think I am? No, you know what, don't even answer that -

"You - I can't believe you're a - a _spy_!" she cried.

"I'm not a fucking spy!"

"Then what do you call it?" she screeched.

"I don't bloody know, okay? Just relax, alright? It's nothing serious -

"It's nothing serious _now_! But it could be! What are you going to tell them when you graduate? _Excuse me, I'm actually going to take a raincheck on that since the girl I've been shagging for the past few months is actually a half blood_. Oh my god, what if you've already said the wrong thing, what if they - they find a way to get to Harry -

"I don't give a flying fuck about Harry goddamn Potter, you stupid girl! I care about you, godammit, and if I have to fucking throw Potter under the bleeding Knight Bus if it means you'll be safe, I won't hesitate to do it, do you understand? It was never my intention to get involved in any of this, and I don't intend on being any more involved than I already am -

"And just how fucking involved are you?"

"Not as much as you are!" Cassius retorted hotly. "And the only reason I would _ever_ take it further is if it means keeping you safe -

"I don't _need_ you to keep me safe, you bloody idiot!"

"Yes, you fucking do," Cassius snarled fiercely, clutching her by the arms. "You provoked Rabastan Lestrange's daughter in a room full of fucking Sympathizers, you're a _half-blood_, you're a Gryffindor, and now you're knee-deep in Potter's _shit_, so as far as I'm concerned, considering your goddamn track record, you are in need of as much protection as you can get -

"And who's going to protect me, the little Dark Lord in training?" Alicia sneered mockingly.

"_Fuck you__, _Alicia - you know I'm not like that - _  
_

"You _are_, you bastard! You're a goddamn sympathizer -

"I'm not a fucking sympathizer, okay? For chrissake, I'm fucking you, aren't I -

"No, you're not -

"And whose fault is that?" Cassius growled viciously.

She fell silent, and he nodded stiffly.

"That's what I thought," he snapped. "And I am _not_ a fucking sympathizer, okay? Circe, I can't believe I actually have to spell it out for you."

"And what else am I supposed to think? You're _reporting_ on Harry, half your family's _dead _because of who they were, and you've said so yourself - you actually _agree_ with some of the bollocks that's being said -

"I _believe_," said Cassius through gritted teeth, "That yes, it _is_ unfair that witches and wizards should have to hide from the world because of muggles. And yes, I _believe_ that as long as we have to remain in hiding that it's ridiculous to let the families of mudbloods - _muggleborns_ - gain access to our world -

"Oh, excuse me, and what do you propose we do with these _mudbloods_," Alicia sneered. "Or half bloods for that matter?"

"Their muggle relations shouldn't be allowed -

"My _father_ is a muggle and he hasn't done _anything_ to harm _anybody _in the wizarding world -

"I know you're father's a muggle!" Cassius snapped. "You don't fucking think I wish every goddamn day that he wasn't so that we don't have to _hide_? So that I don't have to fucking _watch_ you parade around with that goddamn sonofabitch everywhere I go? And yeah, you're father might not give a damn whether or not you're a witch, but for circe's sake, Alicia - think about how much shit could go wrong if some muggle takes it into his head that he's going to tell the entire bloody muggle world that his kid's a witch? And don't tell me muggles are harmless, I know they've got weapons that could destroy the world, with or without magic - they would kill our kind, don't you understand? They'd lock us up and experiment on us -

"They're not _evil_ -

"No, but they'd be afraid, and don't tell me otherwise. And when people are afraid, they do crazy things."

Alicia laughed, a brittle sarcastic sound that chilled Cassius' veins.

"You're right," she sneered. "You're absolutely right. And that's why the wizarding world's about to erupt into a war - because people like _you_ are _cowards, afraid. _You're telling me you're spying for you-know-who for _me_? To keep _me _safe? Keep on telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. I'd rather be dead then alive in a world where _your _side wins, and I mean that. You think I'm going to fight to get my jollies from being associated with The Boy Who Lived? _I'm _doing it so that _I _don't have to be scared for my life every time I make a wrong turn down Knockturn Alley, _I'm _doing it so that one day - maybe one day - people like you and me can - can just fucking be young and in love without worrying about some fucked up lunatic trying to off us all! So _excuse_ me for being naive, _excuse _me for being foolish, but don't you _dare_ call me stupid - don't you dare. You're the stupid one if you think you're going to get out of this war with clean hands."

Cassius shook his head furiously and firmly cradled her face in his hands, forcing her to look up at him.

"You are stupid, Alicia," he said gravely. "You never should have let me touch you. Now we're both fucked."

* * *

**OK, so how was it? Do you all still hate me? **


End file.
